Harry Potter and the Prince of Ice
by Neverwood
Summary: Harry Potter has killed Voldemort, Light has triumphed over Dark, good has defeated evil, and the world is at peace. All is well in the wizarding world. Until another twist of fate leads Harry into yet another adventure filled with drama, mystery, and suspense. Eventual Drarry smut, you have been warned. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1: A New World

**Author's Note: Greetings all! My name is Neverwood, I am an amateur writer and this is the first story I have ever published. I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed, and will continue to enjoy, writing it. I am very excited to share this story, and very hopeful for its future. Occasionally there are chapters that, due to FF's rules and regulations, I am not sure I can publish on this site. In that case, I put the censored version here and the 'adult' version on AdultFanFiction. I always put a notice on the Author's Note in such cases. Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. I am only writing this to entertain myself and others, not for profit or anything else. Without further ado, here is the first chapter.**

Fire and Ice by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice

Harry Potter stood at the train station that would take him away from Hogwarts. He looked over his shoulder at the castle, wondering if it would ever be home to him again after all the pain and suffering that occurred there. His thoughts began to darken as his mind touched upon all those whom he had lost. The smiling faces of Fred, Remus, and Sirius all whirled within his mind. He was shocked out of his reverie by a hand clapping upon his shoulder. He looked to see Ron, his face grim but content. By his side was Hermione, who had a like expression. Harry imagined his wasn't so different either. They had gone through hell, yes, but they had made it back. The train arrived and people began shuffling to get on board. Ron and Hermione made their way through the thick crowd, but Harry took one more moment to look back at the life he had lived. Yes, there were many lives lost. Some in the pursuit of light, some for the sake of darkness. But one commonality was true of both: that mourning does nothing for the dead, it only affects the living. And while it was acceptable, and even recommended, to cry over the ones who were no longer with him, Harry knew all too well that sadness could become a great burden when it became too heavy for the person to bear. And that was what led to the living never having lived. He turned his back on Hogwarts and those maudlin thoughts, determined to have one good grieving session when he got back to Grimmauld Place and then moving on into the next phase of his life.

As he lifted his head up and made his own way onto the Hogwarts Express, his eyes naturally drifted to a head of platinum blonde hair. He stood alone, looking for all the world like the war survivor he truly was. His grey eyes locked onto Harry's, and although nothing was said or done except staring, Harry felt a million words and thoughts had been passed between them in those few moments. Finally, Draco gave him a nod of acknowledgement. Harry gave him one in return, one man to another. Equals at last. Although Draco turned away quickly, Harry thought his expression wasn't quite so severe anymore. He boarded the train and sat with his friends, who had of course saved him a seat.

"What are you grinning for, mate?" Ron asked, but with curiosity instead of hostility. Harry was surprised to realize he did have a small smile on his face. He looked out the window as the train pulled away from the station before glancing between his two best friends in the world.

"Just happy to be going home." Harry said, and Ron and Hermione nodded in understanding as they all watched Hogwarts and the war fade into non-existence.

...

Harry collapsed onto his bed, exhausted from the train ride and from the packing and unpacking. He closed his eyes, dreading and anticipating the storm he could feel brewing inside of him. As much as he hated the moments when fear, pain, and loss overcame him, he knew that it would be worse to fight them off. He took deep breaths and waited. And waited. And waited.

But the explosion never came. No tears fell from his eyes, no sobs or screams came from his lungs. If he wasn't so relieved by that, he would wonder what was wrong with him. After Sirius had died, he had been an absolute train wreck. Now, several of the people he cared about had been killed, and all of them for him. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. The Man Who Survived.

 _What a load of rubbish._

Harry shook his head. No, not rubbish. He may argue how deserving he was of such sacrifice, but he would never besmirch the honor of the fallen that way. He rubbed his hands on his face before getting up off of his bed. If he wasn't going to break down, then he needed to be doing something useful. He began by going downstairs, ignoring Kreacher who was grumbling to himself as usual. To say he had been happy for "Master Harry" to come home would've been laughably off the mark. Burst his bubble would've been more accurate. Still, as sick as it was, that kind of homecoming was familiar to Harry. And at this point, anything familiar was a good thing.

He found himself wandering the house, cleaning and organizing as he went. After the third room, he began to wonder what Kreacher did all day since he obviously didn't clean. Then he pictured Hermione's face if she had heard him speak that thought aloud, shuddered for effect, and went back to inspecting his new-ish home.

He paused in a familiar doorway, propping himself on the doorjamb. There, upon the wall, was the Black family tree. He idly wished he could see Sirius's photograph, but it had been blasted off the tree long before Harry had been there. He sneered at Bellatrix's portrait, but didn't have the energy to do much else. Deciding that the room was depressing, he was about to see what horrible state the kitchen might be in when the doorbell rang. Despite the wards preventing those who would do harm to get anywhere near the building, Harry still drew his wand as he walked slowly to the entrance hall. Kreacher was deliberately not opening the door, pretending to dust as he neglected his duties. Harry was grateful, because he didn't think he wanted to have anyone in his home that Kreacher would approve of.

He grasped the handle, took a deep breath, and jerked it open. He pointed his wand at the visitor, but sighed with relief and put it away as soon as he recognized his face.

"Mr. Weasley." Harry breathed. "Sorry about the wand, I-"

"Not to worry, Harry. I'd be more concerned if you didn't greet guests with a wand handy." Arthur said easily. "May I come in?"

"Sure." Harry said, stepping aside. "Ignore Kreacher, everyone else does."

As if on cue, Kreacher began grumbling loudly about blood traitors tainting the house. Arthur nodded to the house elf, which surprised both Kreacher and Harry, before making his way to the dining room. He sat at the long table that once held the Order of the Phoenix meetings, running his hand along the wood as if reliving happy memories. He shook himself out of his reminiscing as Harry sat beside him.

"As much as I did want to see you, Harry, I'm afraid I'm here on business." Arthur admitted nervously.

"For the Ministry?" Harry asked, a little put off. "You'd think they would give me one day to relax."

"Yes, well..." Arthur said uneasily. "There has been a bit of an...an issue. Yes, an issue. You see, um..."

Harry waited patiently for Arthur to continue, all the while running through the possible scenarios of what the Ministry needed from him now. Did they have some other ultimate evil that needed taking down? If so, he was going to demand compensation for this one.

"Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy have been arrested. Draco, however, has been let out on leave." Harry had learned in his second year that being let out on leave was the wizarding equivalent of being let out on bail. "He is free to roam within London until the day of his trial. But Malfoy Manor has been designated a crime scene, and all of Malfoy's property and his fortunes have been seized by the Ministry."

Harry felt a deep pang of sympathy for Draco. Despite their years of hatred and rivalry, he had grown past that in the last year. He had come to the realization that Draco was not an evil murderer, or at least not of his own accord. He had simply been a pawn in a game that was too big for him, a kid caught up in the drama of war, a tool for Voldemort to use and dispose of whenever he pleased. He didn't blame Draco for the horrible things he had done on account of Voldemort, and he personally believed the experience had changed Draco for the better. To hear of how his fortunes had turned so much for the worse was almost a physical pain to Harry.

"Where will he stay? With his friends?"

Arthur shook his head. "Those who showed no remorse were also arrested, those who repented were also placed on leave. One of the terms was that they not associate with anyone who was also on leave."

Harry swore under his breath. "So, what? The Ministry will leave him in the street?" Harry saw Arthur's mouth open, but didn't wait for his reply before standing and slamming his hands upon the table. "That's utter rubbish! It's prejudiced, it's illegal-"

"Careful, Harry." Arthur said, and the quietness of his tone hushed Harry more than anything. "The victory may be ours, but we are a long way from true recovery. The Ministry is tense right now, they want to make an example of people."

"Like Draco." Harry said bitterly.

"Like you." Arthur warned. "There are still those in the Ministry who are still smarting from you proving them wrong about You-Know-Who's return. They would not be opposed to seeing you put in Azkaban for as long as they could get away with, war hero or not."

Harry locked eyes with him for several moments before nodding, and sitting back down.

"Okay. I'll listen." Harry said after a moment.

"Good." Arthur said, squeezing Harry's hand before pulling back. "Now, the reason I bring up young Malfoy is because his living arrangements are the issue I came to discuss with you. Specifically, the fact that he has none."

Harry nodded. "I still own my parents' old house in Godric's Hollow. He can stay there until after the trial."

Arthur looked reserved. "As much as I admire your charity, Harry, I fear it would do more harm than good. Godric's Hollow has little to protect Draco, and there are many who consider letting a Death Eater live a crime against nature."

" _Former_ Death Eater." Harry said, and it was more instinct than anything after all the times he had made that correction already.

"Yes, of course. Slip of the tongue, as the Muggles say." And for a moment, the old Arthur Weasley was back. But too quickly he fell back into slumber, replaced by a more somber version. "In any case, Godric's Hollow would not be enough to protect Draco."

Harry nodded. "Yes, I can see that now. So what do you suggest?"

Arthur pointedly looked around the room. "Grimmauld Place is quite sizable for a young man alone. Certainly big enough for two individuals to coexist without having to hardly speak to one another." Arthur fixed a direct look at Harry. "And I don't know any man or woman foolish enough to go after the Man Who Survived. Certainly not so soon after such a substantial victory."

Harry sat in silence for a long while, the idea Arthur was heavily implying running around his mind without truly taking hold. Arthur said nothing, only watched in patient silence that was only broken by Kreacher in the next room, still muttering to himself. Harry eventually processed enough information to get one reply out.

"He hates me."

Though, after the interaction they had at the station, he wasn't quite so sure of that anymore.

"Harry, can you really turn away a man in need?" Arthur asked. Harry felt a spark of irritation as Arthur used his own sense of decency against him, but quickly squelched it. He had more important things on his mind right now.

"You're suggesting Draco lives here." Arthur nodded. "With me." Arthur made an unsure gesture with his head before nodding again. "For however long it takes for his name to be cleared." A more hesitant nod. Harry sighed heavily as he looked down at the table, considering his options for a while. While he no longer hated Draco, he was a long way from liking him. Still, Arthur had a point. If he refused and Draco died as a result, could he really live with that on his conscience?

And just like that, his decision was made. He looked Arthur in the eye, spent another moment of hesitation, and finally spoke.

"I'm in."


	2. Chapter 2: Second First Impressions

**Author's Note: Hey guys! Neverwood here. I wanted to thank everyone who's been supportive. Everyone who read, reviewed, followed, favorited, etc. It means a lot to me, and it truly is appreciated. Disclaimers still apply, and off to Chapter Two we go!**

 **Chapter 2: Second First Impressions**

Harry didn't know how long he had been pacing in his room before the doorbell finally rang. What he did know was that he should not have jumped so much from something he was completely expecting. He glanced at his watch, an old Muggle habit he refused to break. Draco was supposed to have arrived twenty minutes ago. If the visitor wasn't him, Harry thought he was going to lose his mind waiting on the daft man.

As he walked/strode his way to the front door, he went over the events of the past two weeks. After Arthur had left, Harry had had to go through some screening and paperwork. As far as he could understand, the contract he'd signed had stated that he was, for all intents and purposes, Draco's parole officer. He was responsible for anything Draco said or did. When Harry had read that, he had felt like jumping from his chair and calling the whole thing off. But his conscience was louder than his objections, and he ended up signing it anyway. That had been five days ago. Harry didn't know what Draco had done in the meantime for shelter, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. All he did want to know was why the inconsiderate prat was late.

He finally reached the front door, opening it immediately. Sure enough, there stood Draco Malfoy. He looked much the same as the last time Harry had seen him, if a little worse for wear. If he had had to overcome any significant challenges in the days that had passed, though, his physique didn't show it. He looked just as fit as he had the last time he saw him.

Harry was so focused on evaluating Draco for any potential health risks that it took him a moment to notice that he wasn't moving. In fact, he was staring at something with quite a bit of fear. Harry looked down, and flushed in embarrassment. He had drawn his wand when he opened the door without even realizing it. Poor Draco probably thought he was going to hex him right off his doorstep. He hastily put his wand away and took a step back into the house, opening the door wider as he went.

"Hey." Harry said, then had to restrain from slapping his forehead at his dumb response. "Come on in."

Draco looked down at his wand hand apprehensively, then looked out into the street. Whether he was looking for a threat or salvation, Harry didn't know. But whatever it was, Draco was apparently satisfied because he entered the house without any more hesitation. Harry shut the door behind him, and wondered if it was just his imagination that the sound seemed deafening. Both men stood in the entryway, looking as awkward as they felt.

"Sorry I'm late." Draco said. "The train had a bit of a delay."

"That's fine." Harry answered. More awkward silence ensued. Harry finally broke it, prompted by the familiar sounds of muttering and grumbling.

"Don't mind Kreacher. My house-elf." Harry said. "He doesn't get along with many people."

Draco look in the direction of the sounds with a small, indulgent smile. "Snape told me about him." Abruptly, the smile fell and they fell into another awkward silence.

Harry spoke up again. "I was expecting more bags." He said, making his voice just a tad too cheery. Draco only held four suitcases and a briefcase, all made of fine, expensive material.

Draco looked at him dully. "It's all they would let me take."

"Oh." Harry said, feeling once more like a dunce. "Right."

Harry looked at his shoes, which he scuffed on the floor. Draco pretended to give his surroundings undue attention.

"Well-" Both of them said at the same time.

"You go first." Harry said politely.

"No, I insist." Draco replied, just as polite.

"I was just going to offer to show you to your room. But if you'd rather-"

"That sounds fine."

Harry grabbed a couple of Draco's bags and led the way. He had decided to put Draco in the master suite. Harry had always preferred the corner bedroom next to it, so he didn't feel at all bad for giving Malfoy the biggest bedroom. He stopped on the stairs, frozen, as an alarming thought rang through his head.

 _When did I stop calling him Malfoy all the time?_

"What's wrong?" Draco asked tensely. Harry looked back to find a slightly panicked look on his face.

"Nothing." He answered thoughtfully. Briefly, he wondered if Draco was more worried about vigilantes showing up or Harry kicking him out. As he proceeded up the stairs, he realized with a flash of intuition that it was probably a mixture of both.

Harry forced open the door, stumbling a bit as he lost his balance. He thought he heard Draco move to help him, but didn't look to be sure.

"The door's a bit jammed." Harry said in explanation as he set the bags down. "You have to use a bit of elbow grease to open it."

"Elbow grease?"

Harry looked back at Draco to see if he was joking, but he seemed genuinely confused. Harry realized he had probably never heard the term before, or never paid attention when he did.

"It's a Muggle phrase." Harry waited for Draco to sneer at him, but he just looked at Harry calmly. No, Harry decided after a moment, not calm exactly. More like a gentle sky that hides the storm that's about to unleash. Or a placid lake that doesn't show the deep currents that run through it. Either of those descriptions seemed to fit Malfoy perfectly.

"What does it mean?" Draco asked, breaking Harry from his reverie.

"Oh. It just means you have to put some force behind it. You know, put some effort into it." Malfoy nodded in acceptance before looking around his new bedroom. His eyes seemed to touch upon every nook and cranny, examining it before moving on to the next thing that caught his attention. Once he had seen what he wanted, he nodded with satisfaction. Then he looked at Harry curiously. He realized he was standing there like an idiot, watching Draco adjust.

"Right. Well, I'll let you get settled then." Harry said, talking somewhat quickly as he moved towards the door. "If I'm anywhere in the house, I'll hear you calling. If I'm out of the house, Kreacher can apparate to me wherever I am. If you need something during the night, I'm in the bedroom just to the left of yours."

Draco turned around. "My left or your left?"

Harry made a quick evaluation, making an odd gesture with his hands that helped him figure out the answer. "My left. If you're leaving your room, it's the first one on the right. If you're coming up the stairs, it's the first one on the left."

"Right." Draco said. Harry nodded without looking at him, and made to leave the room again. He stopped when Draco called out to him.

"Yeah?" Harry said, reluctantly meeting Draco's eyes. They were a dove grey now, with both softness and an edge.

"I just wanted to say..." Draco trailed off, seemingly distracted by something. After a minute, Harry cleared his throat. Draco cleared his in embarrassment before finishing his statement,

"I just wanted to say thank you. For, you know. Everything."

Harry nodded. "Anytime." He paused. "Really."

He only caught a glimpse of Draco's expression before he fled the room, but if he had to testify under Veritaserum, he would say that Draco looked surprised, relieved, and another emotion Harry didn't think he'd ever seen on the Slytherin's face before.

It was going to be an interesting arrangement.

...

Harry Flooed himself to the Burrow, not wanting him and Draco to get in each other's way. He found the Weasley crew a little somber but for the most part recovered from the war. He also saw Hermione, who was visiting Ron. The absence of Fred was felt strongly by them all, but no one mentioned him out loud. After glancing at him a few times, Harry thought George may have wanted to talk about Fred. But Harry didn't say anything about it and neither did George, so they let it go. Instead, he talked with his friends and made conversation with the Weasleys. By the time sunset approached, Harry's face and stomach were sore from laughing and smiling.

"Harry, dear, you must stay for supper." Molly said. "We're having shepherd's pie, and there's more than enough for you, dear."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley." Harry said. " But I need to be getting back. Draco's arrived, and I need to see how he's settling in."

"So it's going well so far?" Arthur said, looking sharply at him. It reminded Harry of the look Ron and Hermione had given him when he'd first gotten there and had told them about his new housemate. Although Ron had looked much closer to a heart attack than his dad did.

"Yes, sir." Harry said. "So far, there haven't been any-"

"Master Harry!"

A cat made of yarn hissed at Kreacher before jumping into the safety of the yarn bag. Harry looked over and raised his brows, worry already filling his mind. Kreacher smiled, which Harry took to be a very bad sign.

"Mister Malfoy needs Master's help."

"I'd best be on my way, then." Harry said. He bid everyone a hasty goodbye, and in his haste kissed both Ron and Hermione on the cheek. Ron immediately spluttered and pretended to gag, and in the disturbance that ensued, Harry and Kreacher apparated back home.

…...

Harry burst through the front door, having apparated into a neighbor's yard due to the wards preventing any direct apparition onto the property.. The woman who lived there never looked away from her telly, so he felt relatively safe practicing magic there despite its openness. He looked around the house and called for Draco, who came around the corner with a bemused look.

"Are you all right?" Harry said, running up and grabbing Draco by the arms. Draco looked very worried and a little horrified, and Harry shook him in response. "Was it an Auror? A Death Eater? Come on, Draco, speak up, man!"

Draco put his hands on Harry's arms, and Harry felt a small spark of static electricity. He ignored it completely and focused on his housemate, who from what he could tell was in a bit of a daze.

"Potter," Draco said clearly, no pain or fear in his voice, "I'm fine. I asked Kreacher if you guys had anything decent to eat, and he said he would go ask you."

Harry turned on Kreacher, who looked completely unrepentant.

"You little heathen!" Harry yelled. "I kissed Ron for nothing!"

He heard Draco choke from behind him. His eyes went wide and his cheeks pinked as he realized he had revealed more than he'd intended to in his outburst. He turned back to Draco to see the man barely containing his laughter.

"You..." Draco gasped, barely controlling himself. "Kissed...the Weasel?"

"It..." Harry said, his hand on the back of his neck, which felt hot. "Well...not like on the lips or anything."

Draco immediately lost his inner battle, full-bellied laughter bursting out of him like an explosion of happiness. He laughed for a good while, and eventually Harry had to chuckle with him. Even though it was extremely embarrassing, it was quite funny.

Draco finally got himself under control, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Oh, Merlin. I needed that."

Harry crossed his arms. "Well, consider that my welcoming service. I won't be doing it again."

Draco gave a short guffaw. "Dear God, I hope not."

Harry shuddered playfully. "You and me both."

Both men finally got their senses of humor under control, and they stood across from each other. Unlike earlier, the tension and awkwardness between them had dissolved, at least for the moment. Harry enjoyed sharing a moment of quiet contentment, even if it was with his former-enemy-turned-housemate. He followed Draco into the kitchen, where he managed to scrounge up a couple of sandwiches. They ate slowly, talking about nothing in particular. They both gracefully danced around any important topics, all of which felt too heavy and emotional for their current state. Soon, the sandwiches were gone and the boys made their way upstairs. Harry and Draco were at their respective doorways, neither knowing what to say.

"Well." Harry finally said. He thought he saw Draco jump, but he decided not to examine that too intently. "I guess we better head to bed."

"Yeah." Draco said, his words and his tone giving away nothing. Harry tried again.

"If you need anything, you know, just-"

"Call. I know."

Harry nodded. "Well. All right then."

As he closed his door, he thought he heard a whispered, "Good night, Harry." But he couldn't be sure, so he decided not to pursue that line of thinking. Harry laid down and eased himself to sleep. If he knew he was wearing a small smile, then that was something he could keep to himself.


	3. Chapter 3: Storms

**Auhtor's Note: Hello, everyone! Thank you for reading this story and thank you to the people who reviewed, I really appreciate it. Also a big thank you to everyone who has followed and favorited. Without further ado, here is the third chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. This is written for entertainment purposes only, I am not being paid for it in any way.**

 **Chapter 3: Storms**

Harry didn't come to awareness fully. He felt within his dream that something was wrong, and that he had to check on whatever it was. As he slowly became more and more awake, he began to realize that the problem wasn't in his dream, but was in his reality. Specifically, it was a noise coming from Draco's room. Harry shot out of bed, scrambling for his glasses in the darkness. He grabbed his wand and cast a _Lumos_ charm before making his way to Draco's door, not even bothering to knock before quickly entering the room, cursing the stubborn door as he did. He scanned the room, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Draco made another noise, and Harry approached the bed at a more cautious pace. What he saw made him gasp.

Draco was laying on the bed, the covers kicked off of him. His skin and clothes was soaked with sweat, and his muscles were straining with tension. He was whimpering and crying out, presumably from whatever nightmare he was having. Harry stood there for a few moments, not knowing what to do. Ron had sometimes suffered from nightmares during their Horcrux hunt, but Hermione had been the one to take care of him. He supposed he would just have to try to remember what she had done.

Taking lessons from his memories, he sat gingerly on the bed next to Draco. He leaned towards Draco, whom he could now see was even paler than normal. This close, he could also make out that the whimpers were Malfoy talking to his nightmares, though most of it was unintelligible. Harry felt a dull throb in his chest as he heard a distinct "No!" and then a softer "Please." before Malfoy became unintelligible again. He gently took Draco by the shoulder and shook him lightly, not wanting to cause him any further distress.

"Malfoy." Harry whispered. Draco snuffled, but gave no other indication he had heard him. Harry cleared his throat and raised his voice a little louder. "Malfoy."

Harry heard a very distinct whimper that time, but Draco still seemed trapped by his nightmare. Harry shook him harder and called out his name louder, but nothing seemed to be getting through to him. He needed something that would shock Draco awake without traumatizing him further. He got an idea, although he wasn't sure it _wasn't_ going to traumatize Malfoy, but at that point he didn't care.

"Draco!" Harry said, sharp and clear.

To his surprise, it worked. Draco's eyes shot open and he sat up immediately. His eyes locked onto Harry, and Harry couldn't contain another gasp. Draco's pupils were blown wide open, and they were completely devoid of anything but reflections of horror and fear. The color of his irises were pale white. To Harry's relief, Draco blinked a few times and his eyes returned to normal. He squinted, even in the dim light of Harry's _Lumos_ , before looking away. He didn't ask Harry why he was there, for which Harry was grateful. But the silence began to stretch on, and Harry began to feel that itchiness that always came with being in an uncomfortable situation with someone else.

"I get them too." He said softly. Draco stiffened a bit, but otherwise gave no reaction. After a minute or two, Harry was ready to go back to his own bed, even if there was no way he could fall asleep again. He had just begun to get up when he heard Draco mutter, almost too quietly to be heard,

"Storms."

Harry looked outside, and for the first time notice the thunder, lightning, and rain raging outside. He shivered, not being a fan of storms either. He looked back at Draco, who was facing him fully now, but was looking down at the bed.

"They always get worse in storms." Draco said, his voice soft and broken. "I don't know why."

Harry felt sympathy rise in him. He knew why he didn't like storms. When they were younger, his cousin Dudley loved to lock Harry out of the house whenever a bad storm was about to hit, and laugh at him through the windows as he tried desperately to get back in. Sometimes Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia would let him in, though not out of the goodness of their heart. Sometimes they left him out there, and he couldn't count the days he had fitfully slept on that porch, Mother Nature a swirling chaos surrounding him. He shivered again at the memories before he locked them away in the back of his mind, in the Vault of Forgotten Things.

"Storms are scary." Harry said, sounding more wise than he felt. "They make us face our own vulnerability, our own mortality. They show us how fragile we are."

Draco sneered at him, and Harry was surprised at how disappointed he was to see that expression on his face again.

"I am _not_ weak." Malfoy said with disgust, nearly spitting the word out. Harry rolled his eyes in response, which he was gratified to see made Draco pause. As much as he hated that snarky expression, he was glad to have the old Draco back for a bit. He was easier to deal with that way.

"I didn't say you were weak." Harry said matter-of-factly. "I was mostly talking about myself, and people in general. I wasn't insulting you. Though you may find that hard to believe."

Draco paled a bit more, if that were possible. Harry noticed his skin was still covered in a sheen of sweat, and that his clothes were sticking to him still. They were thin white pajamas, a matching pair of shirt and pants. Harry was tempted to examine Draco more closely, but refocused on Malfoy's face as he spoke again.

"I guess old habits die hard, eh?" Draco said, attempting a smile but only achieving a grimace. But Harry wasn't about to point that out to him. He rather liked having all his limbs, and wasn't about to risk having Draco rip one off.

"Guess so." Harry said with a sigh. "So where does that leave us?"

Draco looked as if he were about to sneer again, but held himself back. Harry felt an odd sensation in his chest because of it, but wrote it off as being tired.

"I don't know." Draco said softly, and Harry was surprised he had actually admitted to it. He thought for a moment before looking back at Draco.

"I don't suppose we could..." he trailed off as he saw a sparkle in Draco's eyes. However, it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, and Harry chalked it up to his own imagination and the dim light.

"Don't suppose we could what, Potter?" Draco asked.

"Start over?" Harry said. He saw Draco's eyebrows lift with his own surprise, then watched them lower back down as the Slytherin considered his suggestion. After several minutes, which felt like centuries to Harry, Draco nodded to himself before looking at Harry directly.

"I think that would be best." Draco answered, ever the aristocrat. He struck out his hand. Harry was taken into a flashback of the day at Hogwarts when Draco had offered him a very different kind of friendship. One built on politics and fame and based entirely on what they could do for each other, rather than who they were. As Harry stared into Draco's eyes and shook the offered hand, he prayed he hadn't just made a mistake.


	4. Chapter 4: Fresh Start

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone! As always, a big thank you to those who have reviewed, followed, favorited, or read the story. The disclaimers that applied before still apply, but other than that there's not much for me to say. So let's get to the good part, shall we?**

 **Chapter 4: Fresh Start**

When Harry awoke the next morning, he wasn't convinced that last night hadn't been a dream. However, when he went downstairs and saw Draco watching him amicably but cautiously, he knew that it had been all too real. He still had reservations about striking up a friendship with Draco. But the way he saw it, if he rejected Draco based on a past that at this point seemed a million lifetimes away, then he was no better than any of the bigotted witches and wizards that may or may not be coming after his house guest.

"Did you sleep well?" Harry asked, then winced at his own stupidity. "Well, you know, after?"

Draco shook his head. "Couldn't sleep." He brought a hot cup of coffee to his lips.

"Where did you manage to get that?" Harry asked. They were in a residential neighborhood, and he doubted Draco would have risked an exposed apparition, even for coffee.

"There's a cafe two and a half blocks away." Draco answered. Harry made an interested sound as he sat at the dining table, though he kept a small distance between him and Draco. Draco observed Harry's seat of choice with an arched brow, but gave no other reaction as he read the Daily Prophet.

"Any good news?" Harry asked, though he didn't hold out much hope.

"Depends." Draco said dryly. "Were you rooting for Mrs. Nettlebutt's squashes for being voted the Best of the Year?"

Harry chuckled, picking up one of the discarded parts of the paper. "Not particularly, no."

He was so intent on his reading he missed Draco's fleeting smile, but Draco felt it happen and frowned in reaction to it. Which was probably why his next words came out more biting than he had intended.

"Harry Potter, not caring about squashes. Someone call Rita Skeeter."

Harry looked up, unsure how to take the remark. Draco briefly made eye contact with him before turning back to his own part of the paper. Harry decided to let it go, and was relieved from a long, awkward pause as his stomach announced itself to the room. Draco gave a small cough, which Harry knew was to cover a chuckle. He shot a half-hearted glare at Draco, but didn't bother to hold up the pretense for long.

"Something does smell good." Harry said, noticing it. "Did you get anything while you were out?"

Draco nodded before raising the paper above his eye level. "Had to. You were out of almost everything. Didn't even have caviar."

Harry couldn't judge whether Draco was serious or not because his face was hidden behind the Daily Prophet, so he gave him the benefit of the doubt and assumed he was joking. He was getting up to make breakfast for himself when Draco suddenly set a small package in front of him, one that Harry could tell was warm and smelled like utter deliciousness.

"I figured you wouldn't mind if I grabbed you something while I was out." Harry blinked at the consideration Draco was showing, and the other man looked over the paper at him when he didn't immediately open the wrapper.

"What?" Draco asked, curiosity tempered with just the slightest bit of indignation. Harry smiled. That was more like the Draco he knew. He shrugged in response to him before devoting his attention to his meal. He felt Draco's gaze lingering on him before turning his attention back to the paper. He ate in silence, comfortable this time, and sighed in satisfaction when he was done.

"Thanks, by the way." Harry said suddenly, realizing his rudeness. But if Draco cared, he didn't show it. He simply accepted the gratitude with a regal nod. Harry found himself watching Draco closely. It wasn't necessarily that he didn't trust Draco, but it was hard for him to adjust to this new version of him. He hadn't realized his own preoccupation until Draco set the paper down with a small slam.

"Why are you staring at me like a little ponce?" Draco growled, then blinked in astonishment as Harry smiled at him.

"There's the Draco we all know and...well, there's Draco."

Draco narrowed his eyes, but didn't rise to the bait. "I thought we agreed to start over."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You expect me to believe you're a nancy little pansy now?"

Harry smiled again as Draco opened his mouth over and over again, but no sound came out.

That and the absolutely shocked look on his face made him resemble a fish. Harry had to bite down on a laugh.

"A nancy little..." Draco said, astonishment clear in his voice. "You did _not_ just call me that."

Harry nodded. "I did. And I'm glad I did."

Draco's brows were raised in confused surprise. "Why?"

"Because it made you stop acting like one." Harry said, beginning to lean forward as the discussion grew more intense. "I agreed to start over, not turn you into someone who can't even hold a decent conversation."

Draco blinked hard a couple of times, but said nothing. He seemed to be mulling over Harry's words in his head. Harry waited patiently, gratified when Draco sighed deeply and began speaking.

"I don't know if you know this, Potter," Draco said, a little bitterness bleeding into his tone, "but my continued survival depends on how this little visit plays out."

It was Harry's turned to look stunned. "I know you don't have a lot of places to go-"

Draco scoffed, but Harry ignored him.

"-but surely you're being a bit dramatic."

Draco looked like he wanted to hit him, but he restrained himself. Harry briefly wondered how much self control it took him to do that before he was focusing on Draco's words again.

"You must be joking." Draco said caustically. "If the Ministry hears one word from you about how I'm misbehaving or how I haven't changed, they'll ship me off to Azkaban before you can say 'bon voyage'."

"First of all, I don't speak French or pronounce it well, so I would never say that." Harry thought that if looks could kill, he would be dead on the floor right now. "Second of all, I can't believe you think I would go tattling to the Ministry. I signed an agreement to help you, I didn't swear to be their spy."

Draco looked away, sullen. A thought occurred to Harry, and Draco's eyes shot back to him as he leaned forward again, his intensity making him unaware of the way he was getting closer.

"Is that why you agreed to a truce last night?" Harry asked incredulously, and a bit accusingly. "Because you thought that if you didn't, I would have you arrested?"

Draco blinked at him again. "Well...when you put it that way..."

Harry shook his head. "Mafoy, you're one of the most clever people I know." Draco looked at him with his mouth agape in shock as Harry sped through the compliment. "But sometimes, you can also be one of the thickest."

Draco looked perturbed, as if he didn't know whether to be pleasantly disturbed by the compliment or angry about the insult. He settled for thoughtfulness as he put a finger to his mouth, submerging into his own mind.

"Draco." Harry said, calling him back. "If you don't want to start over, that's fine. I can live with that. But don't lie to me because you think it's what I want to hear." Harry paused in thought as he rubbed the back of his hand. "Or for any other reason, for that matter. I've had enough of lies."

Harry watched for several minutes as Draco warred with himself. Finally, he shot Harry a smirk.

"God, Potter." Draco said, all arrogance and sharp wit. "Could you sound more like a girl right now?"

Harry closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Then he counted backwards from ten before opening his eyes again, afraid of what he would do if he saw that smug smirk. But Draco was only a little smug now, which was tolerable.

"Yes or no, Malfoy?" Harry said. Another minute went by. And another. Finally Draco looked him in the eye and nodded.

"All right." He said. "I promise to be the same old clever prat I always was, and you can be the same old self-righteous hellcat you've always been."

It was Harry's turn to blink this time. "Hellcat?"

Malfoy's cheeks turned a little pink. Harry smiled at his embarrassed reaction, which only caused Malfoy to blush harder. On and on the cycle went until Malfoy finally got tired of it.

"Do we have a deal or don't we?"

Harry nodded. "Okay. Deal. But just so you know," Harry added quickly as Draco stood to leave the room, "you owe me one." And because he felt like embarrassing him again, he gave him a saucy wink.

Draco didn't do his fish impersonation again or turn red as a tomato as Harry had hoped. Instead, he gave Harry a sideways look that made him become suddenly aware of how little distance was between them. If Harry leaned forward, his lips would touch Malfoy's hip. The thought of which made _Harry_ blush.

"What do I owe you one for, Oh Great One?" Draco said, but his voice was low and made that awareness increase tenfold.

"Um." Harry said, his mind less focused than it was a few moments before. He kept noticing things, like how Draco's hair looked smooth as silk, or how the blush hadn't quite faded from his cheeks, or how the coffee he'd been drinking had reddened his lips and made them moist. Harry licked his own lips, though he swore it was because they were suddenly dry, which was true enough. Definitely not because he was nervous.

"Have I finally struck you speechless?" Draco said softly, and the satisfaction in his voice woke Harry from his trance.

"You owe me one for taking you in. And for last night. So you owe me two."

"Hmm." Malfoy said, leaning forward so that his hip was leaning against the table, which brought his body closer to Harry. Harry could feel that the air was hotter in the room, and that it was getting harder to breathe. He made a mental note to check the thermostat when he and Draco were finished with...what were they doing? Oh, right. Talking.

"A Malfoy always pays his debts." Draco said, then winced. Harry began to say something, but Draco cut him off. "So in order to defend what's left of my family's honor, I have to pay you back somehow."

Draco glanced down at the discarded wrapper. "We'll say breakfast calls me even for last night." Harry detected a slight returning blush as Malfoy said the last bit, but he tactfully said nothing about it.

"As for giving me shelter..." Draco said, considering. Finally, he seemed to come to a conclusion because he looked down at Harry with a grin. Harry wasn't sure whether the grin was a good omen or a bad one.

"I guess I'll just have to owe you a favor." Draco said definitively.

"A favor?" Harry asked. It seemed so unlike Draco to give that kind of opportunity freely, especially to someone he hadn't been able to trust until recently.

"An open favor is not something that I give lightly." Draco said, his eyes darkening with intensity. "Use it wisely, and don't waste it on something stupid."

Draco was so close that Harry could smell the coffee still on his breath. He nodded dumbly, and Draco gave him a smirk before going upstairs.


	5. Chapter 5: Birthday Boy 1

**Author's Note: The censored version of this chapter will appear on fanfiction. The more adult version will appear on adult-fanfiction.**

 **Thanks to everyone who has supported this story, I really appreciate it. Especially the feedback, which is essential for writing. Hope you all enjoy!**

 **Chapter 5: Birthday Boy #1**

Harry felt both guilty and annoyed. When he had woken up, he had known that it was the fifth of June but hadn't thought anything of it. To him, it was just Friday. A good day, but nothing special. Until he got an owl from Hermione, of all people.

He had been standing in the room he had converted into a sort of office, where he was keeping track of the developments in the Ministry's efforts to capture all of the Death Eaters who fought for Voldemort. He didn't let Draco see that he was keeping up with what he prayed would not turn into a Salem witch hunt. Draco never mentioned Death Eaters or the after-effects of the war, so Harry chose not to either.

He was deep in contemplation of an alleged Death Eater capture in Durham when an owl began pecking at the window. He opened it and let the owl in, noting with a bit of surprise that it belonged to Hermione. He gently untied the string holding a small box and saw not one, but two envelopes. One addressed to him, another addressed to Draco. Setting the box aside, he opened the letter addressed to him and began to read.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I don't know if Draco would welcome a birthday gift from any of us, but it is important to try and cooperate with each other after all the trials we have all faced. You have said that Draco is a better person, and although I am reserving judgment, I will give him the benefit of the doubt. Please give him the gift and the card, it is from Ron and me. And make sure you do something nice. Everybody deserves to have a good time on their birthday._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Hermione_

Harry was flabbergasted. He had had no idea that today was Draco's birthday. He wasn't even sure how Hermione knew. Harry felt bad that he hadn't known, despite having no real way of knowing. He was also annoyed at Draco for not mentioning it at breakfast that morning. He pondered over why Draco wouldn't have at least mentioned it, and the only solution he came up with was that Draco didn't want to make a fuss or seem sentimental. Still, Harry agreed with Hermione. Everyone deserved a good birthday. A plan already forming in his mind, he spelled the door shut and performed a silencing charm before stepping over to his fireplace. He had no time to waste if this was to work.

…

"Where are we going?"

Harry rolled his eyes. Although the new truce they had formed was a bit easier, there was no one fool enough on earth to say it was easy. Although Harry and Draco had learned enough about each other to realize that they weren't the same antagonistic schoolboys, there were plenty of moments where either of them resembled their former antagonistic schoolboy selves. Now, Draco was doing a spot-on impersonation of an irritable and slightly whiny child. He'd been asking Harry that question since they had left the house twenty minutes ago. Harry had made them walk instead of apparate, claiming that there was no safe place near their destination. He led Draco down the various streets of London, feeling the calming sensation of being one of the crowd. He kept close to Draco as he led him towards their destination, hoping that the plan would go off without a hitch. As they turned the final corner, he spotted Pansy Parkinson waiting just outside the door. Thankfully, the crowd was bustling enough that Draco wouldn't be able to see her unless he already knew she was there, like Harry did. She gave Harry a sign to wait for five minutes before ducking into the restaurant. Harry growled under his breath in impatience and frustration, trying to think of a way to distract an already very impatient and frustrated Draco.

"Potter, for Merlin's sake, where are we _going_?"

Harry thought it was very Slytherin of him to see an opportunity and take it in this way, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that anymore. He discarded that train of thought as he rounded on Draco, making the other man take a step back before he caught himself.

"Draco. Could you maybe wait five minutes before crying at me?"

Draco seemed shocked, and Harry wasn't surprised that he was. Although they had been more friendly than before, they were still walking on eggshells around each other after Harry and Draco agreed on a real truce. Although they chatted and slowly got to know each other, it was very stilted and polite, not at all smooth or natural. To go back into the comfortable but tetchy bantering was a risk neither of them had wanted to take up to this point. Draco seemed unsure of what to do, and Harry worried that Draco was still thinking he would tattle to the Ministry if Draco stepped out of line. In truth, Harry didn't think he would be telling the Ministry anything even if Draco _did_ go rogue.

"I...um..." Draco finally said. Harry pressed on.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

Draco's face became both disgusted and confused. "What in the world?"

Harry dropped the act of pretending to be irritated, which only confused Draco more. He didn't understand why, it's not like Harry had ever been a great actor. Except when playing dead, but his mind shied away from that. "It's another Muggle phrase. It means you are speechless from surprise when you should be talking."

"Oh." Draco said, blinking owlishly. "Well, then."

Suddenly, Draco squinted at something behind Harry. "Is that Pansy?"

Harry turned around, and Parkinson gave him a discreet signal that all was well. Harry smiled gratefully before turning back to Draco.

"So it is." Harry said, as if he met parolees on the street every day. "Shall we go talk to her?"

Harry's heart broke a little as he saw the look of utter longing on Draco's face. "She's on leave. We can't be seen together."

Harry put his hand on Draco's arm. Draco jumped, but didn't shove him away as Harry expected. He looked at Harry, probing his eyes for...well, Harry wasn't sure what for. Signs of trickery, he supposed.

"Do you trust me?" Harry asked. And although he had originally been intending to ask only about this specific instance, Harry felt the enormity of the question hanging between them. He realized that he wanted Draco to trust him completely, not just as a temporary host. He also realized just then how much trust Draco had already placed in him. The thoughts caused a mix of sensations within him: hope, sadness, gratuity, and another feeling Harry didn't care to examine. He watched Draco work the question over, and realized that Draco had also decided that the question was intended for more than a simple meeting between old friends. He watched the expressions flit across Draco's face as he thought it over, hardly able to see an emotion before it was replaced by another. Finally, Draco looked deep into Harry's eyes. Harry waited, holding his breath.

"I trust you." Draco said, adding a solemn nod to affirm his words.

Harry felt himself breathe again, and was surprised to feel as if a weight were removed from his chest. He couldn't help but smile, and he saw another flash of surprise before Draco gave a small smile in return. Someone cleared their throat right behind Harry, and he saw Draco school his expression before he turned around.

"If you two are quite finished," Pansy said pointedly, "I would like to borrow my friend."

Harry stepped back. "He's all yours. I'll be inside."

Pansy nodded to him. They were also at an uneasy truce, but Harry had seen how guilty she truly felt when she had apologized for trying to hand him over to Voldemort. He had forgiven her, and he hoped that one day they might...well, he supposed friendship might be too much to ask. Still, he hoped they could at least be acquaintances.

Harry walked inside The Chasing Dress, a very nice restaurant that he had found out about just today when he and the others had debated on where to hold Draco's surprise party. He entered a small hallway whose floor was made of marble. He had been told that The Chasing Dress had a strict dress code, and had been surprised Draco hadn't figured everything out the moment he had insisted they wear suits.

"Reservation for Potter, party of eight."

The man looked down his nose at Harry, but Harry had enough experience with that sort of attitude to not even flinch. The man sighed as if doing his job was the most burdensome thing anyone could ask of him before consulting his chart.

"Very well." The man said. "Your... _party_ is waiting in the sitting room just to the left. We do not need any _disturbances_ in the main dining room. _At all._ "

Harry smiled brightly just to spite the man. "Thanks." He turned and headed towards the group of Slytherins assembled in the small sitting area. They acknowledged Harry's presence but kept chatting amongst themselves, which suited Harry just fine. He was only here for one person anyway. They didn't have to wait long before he saw Draco shuffling towards them, his eyes covered by Pansy's hands as she walked behind him. She had him stop and counted to three, at which point all people in their party other than Draco yelled, "Surprise!"

Harry wished he had had a camera. The look of utter disbelief replaced by pleasure was something Harry didn't think he could ever forget. After all the drama and grief of the war, it was nice to do something like this again. He hung back as Draco reunited with his friends. He would have gone home and let them have their night together without him, but the Ministry only allowed it under the guise that Harry was on the lookout for any suspicious behavior as a parole officer. When Pansy insisted that they go ahead to their table, Harry was surprised when Draco told the group to go on without them. Pansy gave Draco an inquisitive look, but lead the rest of the group to the dining room. Draco walked up to him, looking painfully awkward.

"You're missing your birthday party." Harry spoke up. Draco looked at him, smoothing his hair into place in a nervous habit.

"Yeah." Draco said, then cleared his throat. "I wanted to...thank you. You didn't have to do all this."

Harry shrugged. "It was Hermione's idea. And she was right, no one deserves to have a miserable birthday."

Draco looked surprised that Hermione would be that generous, but chose not to comment. "Well, I suppose this puts me in your debt twice now."

Harry shook his head. "I refuse to have you owe me for your own bloody birthday. If you really feel like you need to make it up to me, then do it by having a good time. Then we'll call it even."

Draco gazed at Harry, considering. "A Slytherin would have taken the opportunity to hold something over me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "A Gryffindor would know better than to try to owe someone over a basic right."

"Well, a Slytherin would have come up with the idea on their own."

"A _Gryffindor-_ "

"Hey!"

Harry and Draco leapt apart, only then realizing that their faces had been inches away from each other. Harry and Draco both tried and failed to hide a blush as Pansy stalked over to them. She pointed a finger at Draco.

"You, play nicely." Pansy said, making an impatient noise when Draco tried to argue. She turned her finger to point at Harry. "And you, stop fighting with the birthday boy."

Draco smirked as Harry stood there not quite knowing what to say. He glanced over and saw Draco gloating, and was about to make a retort when Pansy slapped a hand over his mouth.

"I'm warning you, Potter."

Harry gave her a small glare, but nodded in acquiescence. She grabbed Draco by the arm and began dragging him to their table, muttering about boys and their lack of intelligence. Harry grinned as he followed behind, sticking his tongue out at Draco when Pansy wasn't looking. Draco glared at him, but didn't have time to retaliate before they arrived at their table. The look in his eyes, however, promised retribution.

…

Harry had had a surprisingly pleasant time. He had mostly spent the time at dinner listening to the Slytherins conversing and learning more about Draco than he had ever imagined. It seemed that the Slytherin tradition of friendship was to embarrass each other mercilessly, and some of them were not afraid to use Harry to do it. He didn't think he would ever forget Theo leaning in and stage whispering details of a particularly drunken night of Truth or Dare. It was a full three minutes of mental imaginings before Draco paused in his conversation with Millicent long enough to overhear Theo, at which point he threatened to reveal something about a fish that Theo had done, which was enough to end the very interesting confession. He also would never forget Draco's face as he realized that the coveted bottle of Acromantula venom came from none other than Hermione Granger. Harry was curious how she had come by it, but was distracted as after Draco had opened his last present, Goyle had suggested they head to the back of the restaurant where the bar was. Harry followed the group as they made their way back, and was surprisingly included in the neverending birthday toasts. By the time he and Draco were on their way home, they were staggering drunk.

They fell through the front door, laughing at their clumsiness. They both looked at the stairs, then at each other before going into the dining room. Neither of them felt like stairs would good idea when they were this drunk. Harry sat down heavily in a chair, still laughing.

"You know," he slurred, "I still can't believe you kissed a bloke."

Draco stood next to Harry's chair, leaning back against the table. "Why is that?"

Harry shrugged. "Just never pictured you as a lightfoot, that's all."

Draco raised one eyebrow, which Harry wished he could do. "I've done more than kiss, with girls and with blokes. Besides, haven't you ever been the least bit curious?"

"Well, yeah." Harry said. "But I would never _do_ anything about it."

"Why not?" Draco asked, genuinely perplexed.

"Cause I'm not gay." Harry said, as if it should be obvious. Which to him, it was.

Draco snorted. "You're not really that much of a prude, are you?"

Harry straightened his posture a bit, though he was too drunk to do a proper job of it. "I'm not a prude. I just don't fancy blokes, that's all. _You're_ the weird one."

Draco leaned in closer. "It's not weird. And I can prove it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah? How?"

"If you kiss me, and you like it, then you would need to admit it's not weird."

Harry scoffed. "I'm not kissing you. I don't even like you."

Draco's eyes went to half-mast. "Have you always been this bad of a liar?"

Harry scoffed again, but didn't answer. Draco continued,

"I dare you to kiss me and give your honest opinion about it."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Or what?"

Draco grinned wolfishly. "Or I'll tell everyone how a Slytherin was more daring and brave than a Gryffindor."

Harry glared at him. "Well, come over here then."

Draco's grin widened as he dipped his head towards Harry's. Their lips connected, and each of them gasped. It felt like static electricity between their mouths, only it was pleasurable instead of painful. Draco let his lips envelop Harry's several times. When he felt himself begin to stir, he leaned back, intending to end the kiss. But Harry whimpered and leaned forward, following his movement so that their lips never parted. Draco smiled in victory and satisfaction before losing himself in the feel and taste of Harry's lips again.

Neither of them knew how long the kiss lasted before they finally parted, needing air. Draco thought Harry looked equal parts adorable and hot as he stared at Draco, his face painted in desire so thick it seemed to steal the air. Draco took several breaths before he spoke.

"So? What's the verdict?" Draco said.

Harry looked down, embarrassed. "I...I liked it." He suddenly looked back up at Draco defiantly. "But I'm still not gay."

"Of course not." Draco said indulgently. "And now that we have that settled, I'm going to bed." He went to leave, but stopped with a hand on the doorway as he looked back at Harry, who was staring after him in a cute mix of confusion and longing. "Sweet dreams, Potter."

Harry looked at the doorway long after Draco had gone upstairs. He eventually turned around, leaning his head down on the table as the thoughts that should be going through his head got lost in the sea of alcohol and confusion bogging up his mind. He finally fell into a restless sleep, his mind and body still yearning for Draco.


	6. Chapter 6: Another Favor

**Author's Note: Thank you everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and favorited. I don't have much to say this week either, so I'll just let you get to the part you actually want to read.**

 **Chapter 6: Another Favor**

Harry awoke with a horrible crick in his neck and a hell of a hangover. He groaned as he reluctantly sat upright, his body protesting any and all movement. He heard a rattling noise, which had no doubt been what had woken him up. He got up, groaning to himself as he made his way to the window, through which he could see an overeager owl literally trying to break in. He opened the window, and the owl flounced down as if it owned the place. It held the letter out in its foot, and Harry could swear it was looking down its beak in superiority. Knowing that owls' personalities often matched their owners, he wondered if perhaps one of Draco's parents had figured out a way to contact their son. But then he saw that the proffered envelope had his name written on it in flowing script. He took the letter, and the owl _strutted_ past him before flying back out the window. Harry shook his head, then winced as it made his headache flare. He heard Draco emerge from his bedroom, and set the letter aside for now. Harry debated on how to handle seeing Draco after the events of last night. What would he say, if he said anything at all?

Draco came down the stairs looking as regal and put-together as always. He paused for half of a second when he saw Harry watching him, but otherwise gave no reaction. Harry stood silently and watched as Draco went into the kitchen and had the enchanted kitchen items begin making eggs and toast, forgoing the bacon they usually had with it. Harry's roiling stomach was grateful for that. He re-entered the dining room, pausing when he debated over how close to sit to Draco. Draco, seeing Harry's indecisiveness, raised one brow.

"You _are_ allowed to sit down." Draco said, indicating the chair directly on his left side. "It is your house, after all."

Harry muttered to himself, too tired and achy to make a proper retort. He winced as one of the pans clanked against the stove, and was surprised as Draco cast a wandless _Muffliato_ at the kitchen in response. Harry cleared his throat, uncomfortable.

"Thank you." He said, and was horrified as his voice sounded horrible. He remembered one time when Dudley had been sick, and Aunt Petunia had said he sounded like he had a frog in his throat. He had sounded a lot like Harry did now.

"You're welcome." Draco said, looking at Harry with narrow precision. "You haven't taken any medicine, have you?"

Harry shook his head, and Draco sighed. He summoned a bottle of Rosemary Meade from his room, along with a cup from the kitchen. He poured Harry a good amount before sending the bottle back where it had come. Harry pushed the glass away.

"Malfoy, the last thing I want right now is alcohol."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Hair of the dog, Hero. Works every time."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "There's dog hair in this?!"

Draco sighed as if it were a great burden to have to educate him. "Hair of the dog is a crass Muggle phrase. If you have a hangover, a small dose of alcohol should help it. It's basic knowledge, Potter, honestly."

Harry tentatively brought the cup to his lips and drank. For several minutes nothing happened, and he was prepared to accuse Malfoy of duping him when the dragon claws holding his head hostage (or so it felt) lessened a bit. He sighed as the tension he'd been holding in his upper body flowed out in meager increments, and he relaxed bit by bit. Although it certainly didn't make him completely better, it took the edge off. He opened his mouth to thank Malfoy again, but stopped as Malfoy waved a letter at him. It was the one Harry had received just this morning.

"If you were trying to hide this," Draco said drolly, "you did a piss-poor job of it."

"I wasn't." Harry said, and reached for the letter. Draco casually switched it to his other hand, moving it out of reach.

"Good." Draco said. Before Harry could ask for his letter, Draco opened it and began to read it aloud.

" _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _We are glad to inform you that you are cordially invited to attend the coronation of the new Minister of Magic. It will be held in the Main Hall of the London offices of the Ministry of Magic and will begin at two p.m. sharp. Please be respectful and arrive promptly._

 _Ignatius Dingleberry,_

 _Minister of Magic_."

Draco snorted before summoning the dishes to serve their breakfast. "Some Minister he's going to be."

Harry took the letter out of Draco's hand, ignoring the bursts of ice in his eyes that the move prompted. "So do you know him?"

Draco shook his head. "No, not at all. But I can already tell he's not a good choice."

Harry looked at the letter while he ate his eggs, which were prepared just the way he liked them. "How can you tell?"

Draco's voice took on a tone he used when he felt he was educating someone, and although Harry would never say so out loud, he thought that if it weren't so pompous he would sound just like Hermione. "He calls it a coronation, which isn't even close to the real thing. He specifically says to arrive promptly, but everyone who's anyone knows that you arrive to a proper function ten to fifteen minutes late, since the actual event doesn't start till about thirty minutes after its set time, and _that's_ being optimistic. And, worst of all, he is already claiming a title he hasn't been given yet. That's three strikes, Potter."

Harry took all the information in, assimilating it into what little he knew of Wizarding politics. He could see how having Draco around could definitely be useful, since he himself was so completely ignorant of such things. He didn't notice how he stared at Draco while these thoughts went through his mind, but Draco did.

"Stop staring at me."

Harry blinked. Although the man hadn't shouted, his voice was very insistent. Harry felt a faint blush as he looked away, embarrassed. He had been watching Draco eat with more than casual interest, even if his thoughts had been elsewhere. The quiet intensity the blonde had in everything he did was distracting, but his distraction called up the events of last night from the back of his mind where he had shoved them to. He pushed them back, not wanting to ever think about _that_ again.

They ate quietly, not speaking to each other like they normally would. Each was lost in his own thoughts. Harry, giving into the fact that the _incident_ would not leave his mind until he had dealt with it, analyzed what he could remember. His actions, and reactions, were not something he could easily reconcile with how he saw himself. He was absolutely certain that, last night notwithstanding, he was absolutely straight. He had enjoyed what little ( _very_ little) he had done with Ginny, and had even been disappointed when she had chosen Neville over him after the final battle. He'd also been very attracted to Cho Chang, and had liked what little they had done. Satisfied that last night had been a drunken fluke, he let the memories fade into background noise.

Draco stood up, sending his dishes to the kitchen to clean themselves. He gave Harry a cursory glance before turning away. "Do remember to wear a suit and not those tacky jeans, would you?" He said, somehow turning a disparaging comment into a form of farewell. Harry's mind decided to let Draco go to his room and to spend the day doing whatever he needed to do to stop noticing Draco in _that_ way. His mouth, however, had other ideas.

"Why don't you come with me?"

He wasn't sure who was more shocked at his suggestion, Draco or himself.

"I've never been any good at politics. You could help me."

Draco's eyes narrowed, and Harry could see the Slytherin side of him emerging. "And what would I get out of this?"

Harry swallowed hard. "A day in my company?"

Draco sneered and went to walk away. "Pass."

"Wait!" Harry said, his mouth betraying him yet again. And although he knew it was very, very bad idea, he asked anyway. "What do you want, Draco?"

Harry saw Draco's face tighten with a certain kind of tension and his pupils expand suddenly, and wondered at the odd reaction. Then his features became passive once more as he brought his finger to rest against his lips in a thoughtful and, to Harry, vaguely worrying pose.

"You have an open favor from me." He said consideringly.

"Would you like me to take it?" Harry said.

Draco shook his head. "No. I'll allow you to save it. Instead," he said significantly, "I would like an open favor from you."

Harry felt uneasy. "What do you mean by that, exactly?"

Draco grinned, which caused the butterflies in Harry's stomach to take flight and his palms to lightly sweat. "I mean, that sometime in the future I will ask something of you. And you have to give it to me, no matter what it is."

Harry had a bad feeling about this, but couldn't see a way out of it without looking like he was backing down from Draco. Which he most certainly was _not._

"Fine." Harry said. He was a little surprised when Draco offered his hand to shake. Memories of their first year again flooded his mind, but he ignored them as well as his growing sense of foreboding. He took Draco's hand and shook it. He gasped quietly as the same static electricity he had felt last night rushed up his arm like a delicious current, and took his arm back a little hastily. If Draco noticed his reaction, he gave no indication. He simply gave Harry a regal nod before retreating upstairs. Harry went upstairs, and felt both fear and arousal grow in him as he wondered what Draco had planned for him.


	7. Chapter 7:Golden Boy and the Golden Room

**Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who is following this story, and a warm welcome to any new readers! Here's this week's chapter, which is very plotty if I do say so myself. Hope you all enjoy!**

 **Chapter Seven: The Golden Boy and the Golden Room**

Harry stood in front of the mirror, frustrated with his lack of knowledge in regards to fashion. He'd been staring at his reflection for ten minutes, still not content that he looked good enough for his first public appearance since he killed Voldemort. He'd never really cared about his appearance before, and he wasn't sure why it was _this_ important now, but it was. And he was hopeless.

"You know," Draco said from behind him, "if you stare at yourself any longer, you may turn into Lockhart."

"Or you." Harry tossed over his shoulder, not even looking at the man.

Draco snorted. "In your dreams, Potter. Besides, I would never go out looking like _that._ "

 _Damn it._ Harry thought to himself. _I knew it wasn't good enough._

"What's wrong with what I've got on?" Harry asked, examining his reflection as if he would see anything different.

Draco sighed, walking towards him. "Here, just let me fix it."

It took Draco all of two minutes to fix Harry's appearance. He untucked the vest, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, redid the messily formed tie into an impeccable Half-Windsor, straightened the collar of the shirt as well as tucked it under that of the suit coat, then buttoned the centermost button of the suit coat. Harry was duly impressed, seeing the effects of the transformation immediately. He'd gone from a little kid playing dress-up to respectable businessman. Draco stared at...something above Harry's head, and sighed in annoyance.

"If I had my supplies, I might actually be able to tame that wild mane of yours, Gryffindor." Draco said with remorse over the lost opportunity.

Harry widened his eyes in mock surprise. "You left behind your precious hair gel?"

Draco glared at him in return. "The Ministry somehow believed I would be able to use Robert Trauss' Extra Strength Holding Gel for nefarious purposes. Though, I can't blame them." Draco suddenly gave Harry a smile that could only be described as debonair. "After all, I am _devilishly_ handsome."

Harry's breath caught at the sight of Draco smiling at him like that. The nervousness he felt demanded his attention, and he was again assaulted with memories of the night before. Determined not to show Draco any reaction, he nodded and turned away, pretending to need something to do with his end table. He pretended to fiddle with something until he felt his body's reactions were once again under his control before turning back to Draco.

They really did look a pair. Him in his now dapper-looking black suit, Draco in a more modern-style suit done in tones of light grey. If it had been anyone other than the two of them, Harry would think they would make a handsome couple. But of course, it was him and Draco, so such thinking was ridiculous.

"Ready?" Draco said, and Harry realized he'd been off in his own world again. He gave Draco a small smile and led the way to the fireplace.

"As I'll ever be."

…

Harry had to admit, the Ministry had outdone themselves. And he meant that in the most depreciating way possible. When he and Draco had emerged from the Floo, he had thought at first that he had been sent to the wrong fireplace, much like second year. But Draco strode into the fray like he was the king of it all, so Harry followed behind and just tried to reconcile this monstrosity with his memories of the Main Hall of the Ministry.

Honest to God, it was like he was inside the Golden Egg. Every freaking thing in the place was gold or gold-plated. The tablecloths were gold, the fountain (restored from its horrible anti-Muggle sculpture), the walls, the candelabras, the silverware. _Everything_ was gold. As if that wasn't bad enough, standing on golden platforms were living sculptures covered in, you guessed it, gold. Harry thought with disgust that it looked like a cross between a goblin's heaven and a dragon's dream. Neither of which were good things, in Harry's opinion.

Harry lost Draco among the hustle and bustle of the crowd, and he felt a stirring in his chest as the only familiar figure disappeared from his line of sight. His eyes widened as he experienced a new sensation that he was completely unfamiliar with. He felt his breathing grow shorter, and felt as if a troll were sitting upon his chest. His body began to shake, and he broke out in a sweat. He couldn't figure out what was wrong, and his lack of knowledge along with his inability to deal with the situation only seemed to make it worse. He moved away from anyone he saw, drawing several people's eyes as he helplessly wheezed loudly for air. The world around him began to spin and darken, when a hand shot out and grabbed his arm, temporarily shocking him out of his daze.

"Harry, you all right?" It was Blaise Zabini, one of Draco's friends that had actually been nice to him on Draco's birthday. While most of the others had only talked to Harry in order to second-handedly interact with Draco, Blaise had actually shown a genuine interest in Harry.

"Fine." Harry managed to gasp out. Blaise looked around before guiding him into one of the empty hallways surrounding the Golden Room of Gaudiness.

"Sit." Blaise said, although with the way he was pushing him Harry didn't think there was much choice in the matter. "Put your head between your knees."

Harry sighed. "Blaise, you're a nice-looking guy, but-"

Blaise snorted. "Just put your head between your knees, Lion."

Harry gave Blaise a narrow-eyed look, but did as he was asked. He found that the room stopped spinning, and his lungs no longer felt like a Hippogriff was sitting on them. He took deep breaths until he felt normal again.

"What happened?" Harry asked. "Did someone curse me?"

Blaise shook his head. "No. You had a panic attack. My cousin gets them all the time when she goes to parties."

"Oh." Harry said. He wasn't really processing, he was still a little shaken by the suddenness of his reaction.

"Will you be here all right by yourself for a minute?" Blaise said. Harry nodded, not wanting to seem like even more of a nuisance. Blaise walked away quickly, and Harry couldn't blame him. If there was any way he could avoid the situation, he most certainly would. He put his head back between his knees and began to breathe deeply again, a part of him astounded that a trick like that would actually work.

"Panic attack, huh?"

Harry's head shot up so fast he saw stars. He groaned, both at the discomfort and at the fact that Draco was apparently well aware of his newfound weakness. He waited for the insults, the smug remarks, the superior tone. But to his surprise, none came. Instead, Draco sounded almost...understanding.

"I should have known." Draco said, standing in front of Harry but looking at anything else. "It wouldn't have taken a genius to figure it out. God only knows what kind of damage you've got from the war." He suddenly met Harry's eyes with a piercing gaze. "I should be able to help. I babysat Blaise's cousin sometimes when I would visit him."

"You would help me?" Harry said. Draco rolled his eyes.

"I can see we've made no progress." Draco waved away whatever Harry was about to say, which Harry himself wasn't even sure what he would have said anyway. "No matter. When we go back in there...yes, Potter, we're going back in." Draco said in response to Harry's bewildered look. "Focus on me, completely on me. Ignore the sounds and the sights around you. Ignore everything else. Focus. On. Me." Suddenly, Draco's smug expression was back. "It can't be that hard. I _am_ amazing to look at."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, in your dreams, Malfoy."

Draco smirked. "Or maybe in yours, Potter."

Harry froze, wondering if he would bring up the previous night. But Draco didn't seem to want to talk about that any more than Harry did, so he let his fears about it subside. For now.

"Come on." Draco said, holding his hand out. "We have a party to attend, powers-that-be to schmooze, and a 'coronation' to witness."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at how disdainful Draco sounded. Once upon a time, he would have wanted to punch Draco in the face for saying something like that. Harry realized yet again what he had already discovered: that he had become a completely different person, and that Draco had as well. He kept forgetting that. As he got up and walked slowly back towards the cacophony of noise, deceit, and false charm, he couldn't stop a thought from running through his mind.

He hoped Draco would be there to remind him in the foreseeable future.

…

Draco had not been understating how precocious and utterly boring the party would be. For ten minutes, they did nothing but walk around the room and try to avoid the Harry Potter fan club, as Draco called them. Women and men alike flocked to him with disconcerting focus and hunger in their eyes, but each time Draco deflected them with ease, sending them off politely but resolutely. If one or more of them wouldn't take the hint, Draco would lead him to someone he knew and would introduce him or, if Harry knew them already, start up a conversation. Harry had to admit, Draco was quite the socialite. He never thought he would be saying that in the form of a compliment, and he would of course never admit it out loud, but he felt it all the same.

Whenever he felt the panic creep in again, all he had to do was touch Draco's sleeve. Draco would disengage them and take him to a more quiet corner of the room and made him focus. Sometimes he would have him focus on his hair, sometimes the smell of his cologne, sometimes the sound of his voice. Despite what their past would suggest, being around Draco was actually very soothing.

Harry was deep in conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt about his new assignment in Cairo when he was suddenly and almost violently pulled away. Harry let out a small squeak of alarm before coming face to face with a man whom he had never seen before.

The man had long dark purple hair, eyes so brown that they appeared to be black, and skin as pale as milk. His suit was done in sky blue and lavender, which made him look ridiculous and very much like an Easter egg. His smile was feral, and the handshake he forced on Harry made Harry want to take his arm back and hide it from the man.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter. I am so very glad to see you here. Ignatius Dingleberry, newly appointed Minister of Magic. Of course, you probably already knew that."

Harry was finding it very hard not to laugh. If the man's appearance wasn't bad enough, his voice and mannerisms were both distinctly feminine in nature. Although Harry had no problem with feminine men, this one didn't seem to even be conscious of it. In fact, if his manner was any indication, he thought he was God's gift to mankind. His behavior and inflated sense of self reminded Harry of Gilderoy Lockhart, and wasn't _that_ a nauseating thought?

"Draco Malfoy." A voice just behind his shoulder said, and suddenly Harry's hand was freed and Dingleberry's was the one being misappropriated for a handshake. Harry had to physically bite his lip as the urge to laugh grew. He had to cover a chuckle with a fake cough as Dingleberry went from looking nonplussed to resembling a bright red cherry on top of a cotton candy sundae.

"Pleasure." Dingleberry bit out, wrenching back his arm as soon as it was polite for him to do so. He bore his teeth in what Harry thought was supposed to resemble a smile, but instead called to mind a shark's wide-open jaws.

"I'm afraid, sir, that Harry was in the middle of a _very_ important discussion. Do excuse us."

Draco began leading Harry away, not needing or waiting for an answer. Which was well and good, since the spluttering from Dingleberry indicated he wasn't capable of giving one. Harry knew from years of experience that Draco would have to make one more parting shot, and stopped obligingly as Draco turned back to Dingleberry with a sickly sweet smile.

"I admire your choice of suit, by the way." Draco said. "My friend's nursery looks quite the same. Lovely colors."

Harry didn't dare turn around, but he could imagine the enraged expression that Dingleberry would no doubt be directing at Draco. Instead, he allowed himself a small laugh as they made their way to the opposite end of the room. Harry looked over at Draco, who looked very pleased with himself.

"I thought it wasn't the Malfoy way to piss off people in power."

He immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say. He distinctly saw a flash of pain on Draco's face before he covered it up with his unresponsive mask. He gave Harry a level look.

"The Malfoy way doesn't exist anymore." He said, and his voice was as dead as Harry had ever heard it. He strode toward his chosen destination, and Harry had to jog a little to keep up with the taller boy's longer strides. Even as he swam in regret for his hasty and unintentionally harmful words, he questioned why he felt a sense of loss, and why it was so strong it stole his breath away.

…

The rest of the evening was uneventful. Even the coronation, which was really just a bunch of speeches that nobody was really listening to and several people shaking hands with Dingleberry, was dull as dishwater. Harry kept stealing glances at Draco, trying to figure out a way to fix what he had done wrong. He knew he needed to apologize, but an apology seemed so inadequate. It felt as if he had destroyed something fragile, a precious thing that had barely begun to live. In all honesty, he wasn't paying attention to any other person in the room for more than a few seconds.

They Flooed home together, and Harry again had to rush after Draco. By the time he reached the staircase, Draco had already climbed it and was quickly heading into his room.

"Malfoy!" Harry called, needing the man to stop and pay attention to him.

Draco turned back to him, eyebrows lifted in inquiry. Harry visibly flinched at the ice in the other man's eyes before Draco softened towards him a little.

"I'm sorry." Harry said, his voice soft and filled with regret. He wanted their fledgling friendship back, and had no idea how to go about it. He was hoping Draco would show him the way.

But Draco just nodded. He said, in a voice just above a whisper, "I know." Then he disappeared into his room, leaving behind a confused and depressed Harry.


	8. Chapter 8: Polar Extremes

**Author's Note: Many, many apologies. My work schedule became very hectic and I wasn't able to post last week. I hope that that particular problem has been fixed or at least reduced, but as of right now it's hard to tell. As of right now I am trying to still post once a week, but I may need to change that depending on how it goes. All disclaimers still apply, don't own anything, etc. Without further ado, I give you...**

 **Chapter 8: Polar Extremes**

Harry knew it must be going into afternoon, but he could not bring himself to get out of bed. He had felt like this before, especially during the Horcrux hunt, and it was always very debilitating. Harry gave a deep sigh as his mind whirled and danced from problem to problem, from memory to memory, and the longer it did so the heavier it felt. That's what it felt like, at least to him. It felt like he was sinking to the bottom of the ocean, never to be seen or heard from again. What's worse, he wasn't sure he'd care even if that were the case.

He supposed he could blame that terrible party. Between having his very first panic attack, accidentally hurting Draco, and starting his new life as a political figure, it was hardly a wonder he was tired. But although absent-mindedly bringing Draco down had undoubtedly been his gravest mistake, the memories that were sticking to the front of his mind like glue were the moments that had plagued him his entire life. The moments when people would look at him, and see nothing but the Boy Who Lived. He didn't know how many people had come up to him and shaken his hand and thanked him so much for being their hero. He only knew that with every time he had to smile at these people, the urge to scream had almost overtaken him. Except...except Draco would cut in with an amusing story, or ask about a particular hobby that person was interested in, or inquired after their family. Every time Harry was heralded as the Savior to the Wizarding World, Draco would step in. And although he could imagine what Ron or Hermione would say to that...he was grateful.

Harry rolled to his side, facing the wall that separated him and Draco. He knew exactly what would happen if he got out of bed. He would get up, get dressed, and make his way down to the dining room. He and Draco would be polite, but cold with each other. Harry would feel incredibly guilty over his faux pas of the previous evening, but wouldn't say anything about it. Finally, one of them would get tired of pretending like everything is fine and would go off and do something else, making excuses as they left. Harry would find himself with several hours of time on his hands and nothing to fill them with, but feeling as though it was his duty as a war hero to do something interesting. He would find some friends who weren't doing anything either, he would go some random place and do some random thing with them, smiling and laughing as if nothing were the matter. Then he would come home, collapse into bed, and wonder what the hell he was going to do tomorrow. The tomorrow would come, and the feeling wouldn't be nearly as strong. He'd be able to live his life as he normally would, enjoying things he liked to do, and living life the way he felt he should.

Harry closed his eyes, and decided to skip to the next day when everything would be better.

…

Harry came down the stairs the next morning, albeit a little faster. He felt like little lightning bugs were crawling under his skin, making him itch and filling him with energy. He felt like he wanted to do a back handspring, although he wasn't even sure how one was done. He came into the dining room like a gust of wind, seating himself just to the side of a wide-eyed Draco.

"Good morning." Draco said, slowly and cautiously. He sounded like he was very concerned for Harry's mental health. Harry barked a laugh in response, and the line between Draco's eyebrows deepened. He even set down his newspaper, which he rarely did in the mornings before he was done reading it.

"Are you..." Draco said, but trailed off as if he wasn't even sure how to finish the question. Harry smiled at him, amused at Draco's concern.

"I'm fine. Peachy, actually." Harry said, and his voice rang with cheeriness.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Peachy."

"It means-"

"I know what it means." Draco said, but it was with none of the arrogance or high-handed annoyance that he usually said it with. "I just wasn't expecting you to be so...buoyant after staying holed up in your room yesterday."

Harry grinned. "Aw, Dray, were you worried about me?"

Draco's eyes widened to saucers. Instead of answering, he simply left the room. Harry shrugged it off, grabbing the paper and seeing if anything interesting but not depressing had happened. Not surprisingly, he didn't find anything that matched that description. Needing to do something to exhaust his overflowing supply of energy, he vaulted out of the room and went to the front yard, where the small plots of dirt designed to hold shrubbery were covered in thorny overgrowth. Harry set to his task, grabbing the masses of vines and brutally ripping them out, throwing them into a pile on the sidewalk. He had only been at it an hour when Hermione emerged from his house, looking worried.

"There you are, Harry." She said, rushing forward and hugging him. He hugged her back fiercely, having not spent much time with her since the war. She led him inside, catching him up on her family's antics in Australia. They walked right past Draco, who was waiting with arms crossed and foot tapping. He followed them into the small drawing room, and waited a good few minutes before clearing his throat pointedly. Harry looked over expectantly, and Hermione gave him a guarded look.

"I don't see what the problem is, Mafoy." Hermione said. "He seems perfectly fine."

Draco looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but restrained himself. "Exactly, Granger. He's _too_ fine. He shouldn't be this...this..."

"Happy?" Hermione asked pointedly.

Draco's eyes narrowed at the implied insult. "It's abnormal."

Hermione turned to Harry. "Are you okay?"

Harry nodded.

"Any problems?"

Harry snorted. Hermione smiled.

"Anything that would keep you from being happy?"

"I'm fine, Hermione." Harry said. "Draco's being an overprotective mother hen."

Hermione's eyebrows rose at both the usage of the first name and the familiarity, but chose not to comment. "Well, then, I'd best be going. I promised my parents we would go to the Billywig conservatory today. It was good to see you, though, Harry." She gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek before turning to Draco. She gave him a cool but respectful nod. "Malfoy."

Draco didn't answer, and Hermione Flooed herself out. Harry smirked at Draco as if he was the one being ridiculous rather than Harry himself. When it seemed there was nothing more to be said or done, Harry left the room, whistling a jaunty tune. Draco's eyes narrowed as he watched Harry walk away. He vowed that he would get to the bottom of his former rival's strange behavior.


	9. Chapter 9: A Surprise Visitor

**Author's Note: Unfortunately, it seems I have fallen into a pattern of updating every _other_ week, rather than keeping to my weekly schedule. You all have my most sincere apologies, both in text and in the form of a double update. Yes, there will be TWO chapters this week. As always, a very large and elaborate thank you to those who read, review, favorite and/or follow. Your support helps more than you know. Copyright infringement not intended, for entertainment purposes only, etc. **

**I did originally write that Pansy would not be friends with Harry, but the popular Fanfic version of her is so irresistible as a character that I couldn't help myself. I intend to play with the idea of including the Slytherins, some of which you've already seen in Blaise, Pansy, and Theo.**

 **Chapter 9: A Surprise Visitor**

Harry was ready to snap. For the past three days, he'd been stuck in the house by unseasonable rain. And for three days, he had spent most of his time trying to get away from Malfoy. The man never stung more than a few words together, but he followed Harry to damn near every room and just _stared_ at him. Honestly, it was like he was some kind of puzzle that Draco felt the need to decipher. This morning, he'd finally smarted up and locked himself in his personal office (a place no one but him was allowed) and made sure to keep the door firmly closed with no less than five locking spells. Merlin's sake, he needed some peace and quiet to just relax.

Harry leaned back in his chair, breathing deeply for the first time in what felt like forever. He closed his eyes and felt the tension slowly ease from his muscles. He allowed his thoughts to drift lazily, his mind unfocused and almost completely unconscious. He thought about Hogsmeade and how much he would like to visit once Draco was all sorted out. Or perhaps he could get a sanctioned visit for both of them, although technically Draco was not supposed to leave London proper until his trial. Harry thought about Ron and Hermione, what an unlikely couple they made and yet somehow it also made sense at the same time. He remembered the days he and the other Gryffindors would stay in the common room and make each other laugh so hard their bellies ached. He remembered Draco's birthday dinner, being surrounded by Slytherins and almost feeling included, which was much more than he had any reason to expect.

A knock on the door shook Harry from his light-hearted musings. He growled, grabbed his shoe off his foot, and threw it at the door.

"Gods be damned, Malfoy, leave me the hell alone!"

"It's Pansy, dear."

Harry quickly stepped out into the hall, blushing red as a tomato. There stood the Slytherin girl, looking posh and proper in a short, dark purple walking dress, with elbow gloves and high heels to finish off the look. A matching umbrella hung daintily from a wrist strap. "Pansy, I'm sorry."

Pansy simply smiled at him. "No worries. Drakey can be quite a nuisance. Shall we have a spot of tea?"

Without another word, Pansy turned on her heel in a move that was too smooth not to have been practiced and led Harry to one of the lesser-used drawing rooms. How she knew where to go, Harry had no idea. He was also mildly perturbed that he was being treated like a guest in his own house, but decided to simply wait patiently for the facts to reveal themselves.

Pansy dusted off one of the chairs before lowering herself gracefully into it. Harry lowered himself slowly onto the opposite love seat. Kreacher popped in, and Harry was surprised to see him obeying Pansy without complaint as she had him set the coffee table. When Kreacher was done, he bowed to her before popping out again. Harry raised his eyebrows, impressed despite himself. Pansy smirked, but made no response as she prepared her own tea. Harry watched her do so, still a little edgy and nervous but determined not to show it. Pansy's smile grew, as if she could read his mind. She took a dainty sip from her teacup, nodded in satisfaction, and leveled Harry with a piercing stare.

"So I was taking a nice walk through the park. It's perhaps a bit too rainy for my liking, but it is still a very pleasant pastime for me. Suddenly, a very familiar owl shows up. He drops me off a letter, although to be honest it's more of a note. It's from Draco, saying that there is something wrong with Harry Potter. He also mentioned something about oblivious mudbloods, but that's neither here nor there, dear. So I hurry over here, thinking that perhaps you've got a bad case of Sprout Fever or some such thing. Instead, Draco tells me about how bloody happy you are and that I need to fix it."

Harry stayed quiet throughout Pansy's speech, although he did grit his teeth during the mudblood bit. He cleared his throat. "Pansy, Draco's overreacting. He had Hermione check on me yesterday, and she said I was fine. Also, you two should be more careful. If the Ministry finds out you two are in contact, they could use it as an excuse to punish you more severely."

Pansy kept her enigmatic and all-knowing smile. "I know you haven't been well-on with Slytherins for very long, but surely you've heard of our talents at avoiding getting caught? We're all using hired and unidentifiable owls, and Draco left for a 'shopping trip' before I arrived, so any Ministry worker who decides to put their nose where it doesn't belong will find nothing but a few minor coincidences."

Harry, despite himself, was impressed. "I...that's bloody brilliant, Pansy."

"We'll make a Slytherin of you yet." Pansy said, then grew more serious. "Now, as for your Muggle-born friend who discounted Draco's concerns. Have you ever heard the phrase, 'love is blind'?"

Harry nodded reluctantly, already not liking the direction they seemed to be going in.

"I'm going to tell you a story." Pansy said. "And I need you to listen the whole way through. Okay?"

Harry nodded, but Pansy had already begun to tell her tale.

"Once, there was an old man. He had two children, and four beautiful grandchildren. He had plenty of money, and never wanted for anything. His son took over the business, and everything seemed fine. Slowly, though, cracks started showing. The son made more and more mistakes, and the grandfather became more and more withdrawn. His family grew more concerned every day. Till one day, something changed. The grandfather was better than he had ever been. He smiled, he laughed, and he seemed for all the world to be the happiest man on earth. The son still made mistakes and some of them were costly, but the grandfather simply let the pieces fall where they may. As far as anyone knew, they were all happy till the day they died."

Harry waited for Pansy to continue, but she seemed content to leave it at that. She took a deep sip of her tea. Harry felt some of the tension from earlier creeping back.

"Is that all?" He asked.

"Oh, no, Harry." Pansy said. "That's the story as my great-aunt Rose told it. She was my great-great-great grandfather's favorite grandchild. He doted on her, and she on him. She loved him very, very much. Would you like to hear the story as my great-uncle Burdock told it?"

Although Harry had a strong feeling against it, he nodded his head.

Pansy cleared her throat dramatically. "Once, there was a man. A strong, devoted man who loved his two children and four grandchildren dearly. He worked hard for the family business, but was getting older. Although the daughter would have been much better suited, the man was forced to hand over the business to his son. The son had gambling problems, and would take money from the business to pay his debts. He slowly drove profits down, and punished his employees for his own mistakes. The grandfather saw this, but was no longer in a position to stop it. He drank more and more heavily to heal his pain, although he did try to hide it from his family. He died prematurely from heart failure brought on by acute stress and blood toxicity. Upon his death, a poor relation with good business acumen was brought in and eventually usurped the son as head of the company. The family business thrived under his hand, and they were richer than ever. However, it came at a great price. The family vowed to never allow such weakness to enter their blood again."

Harry's eyes had widened to the size of saucers by the time Pansy finished. She seemed much more somber than she had before.

"My great-great uncle nearly destroyed our family. Burdock remembers his father, the wayward cousin who saved us from disgrace, talking about how no one wanted to acknowledge what was happening right in front of their noses. That despite their concern, it was just easier to pretend that everything was all right, and that these kinds of problems didn't happen to people like us. That we were above them." Pansy gave him a small smile. "Love is blind, Harry. You see?"

Harry looked out the window, refusing to acknowledge her point. She sighed.

"Weasley and Granger are your best friends, Harry. They would never want to see you suffer, and would gladly suffer themselves to protect you. However, sometimes our own feelings that stem such concern prevent us from seeing things as they are. And there's nothing wrong with that. It's human nature. Do you at least understand that, Harry?"

Harry said nothing. His tension, although nothing like it had been, had returned. He simply wanted to lock himself back in his office and forget that the past few days had ever happened. Pansy sighed, but didn't push. Instead, she got up and went to leave the room. She stopped as she drew alongside him, and he jumped in surprise when she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Draco can be a bit misguided, but he is very protective of those he includes in his circle. Perhaps it might be best to return the favor, yeah?"

Again, Harry said nothing, but he was giving it some thought. Pansy seemed to sense this, and quietly left Harry to his own thoughts.

Pansy had a point, he couldn't deny that. Although he disagreed with her on many points, she did remind him that Draco's annoying behavior was coming from a place of concern, not malice. That the proper reaction for such is to be reassuring, not aggravated. Although he couldn't help but be annoyed, he was determined to get things back to the way they were just a few days ago. Before the disastrous party. Before his mindless words struck his newfound companion. Before the overwhelming exhaustion and subsequent hyperactivity. Before the endless staring from eyes that had seemed so icy before but now seemed to be that of a sea on a cloudy day, warm yet striking.

Yes, he would set things aright.

…

Draco entered the house soundlessly, no doubt trying to avoid attracting Harry's attention. Harry felt a sliver of satisfaction as Draco started when he saw Harry waiting for him. He quickly hid his emotions, cautiously moving past Harry to the dining room. Harry saw Kreacher bumbling in behind Draco, levitating no less than ten shopping bags. Harry remembered giving Draco unlimited access to his bank accounts; how Draco revealed that while he had known Harry had been well-off, he had not known quite how wealthy he was. Draco didn't say quite how much money his family had had before the Ministry had seized it, but had mentioned that Harry's fortune was only slightly smaller. It seemed that Draco had gotten over his initial resistance to spending Harry's money, he thought with amusement.

That amusement faded as he faced Draco. Draco was sitting in a chair, looking like Harry was about to pass harsh judgment on him. Harry spent a few moments in silence, not knowing what to say. He finally settled on,

"I got a visit from Pansy."

Draco nodded. "I owled her. I don't know if she told you that."

"She did." Harry said. "Do you owl her often?"

Draco shook his head. "Only when I need something. Not for talking's sake."

"Well," Harry said, "if you decide to owl her more often, your 'parole officer' doesn't necessarily need to know about it."

Draco winced at Harry's reminder that he was on leave, but then his face showed cautious gratitude when he realized what Harry was telling him.

"And if you two happen to be in the same place at the same time while you're out shopping," he added, "I don't need to know about that either."

Draco looked afraid to hope that Harry was serious. "If the Ministry finds out..."

Harry grinned. "I have it on good authority that Slytherins are adept at stealth."

Draco smiled back. "That we are."

His smile faded as his levity lessened. "I was expecting you to be angry. But you've never really done what I expect you to do."

Harry finally sat down, it had felt too significant to be standing while Draco was sitting. "I was angry. For several days. But a lovely girl came by and knocked some sense into me."

"She didn't actually hit you, did she? She's been known to do that."

Harry shook his head. "No. I think she likes me, actually. She told me about her family, about that scandal a few generations back."

Draco's eyes widened. Harry drew back in a protective gesture.

"What?"

"Well, bloody hell. Never thought I'd see the day." Draco said to himself, then to Harry, "We don't talk about stuff like that. Not even with each other. It's considered shameful. What the bloody hell did you do?"

Harry felt warmth fill him as he realized that he had unknowingly made a friend of two Slytherins, rather than one. "What can I say? Snakes like me."

Draco snorted. "Damn Parseltongue. You really should've been in Slytherin."

Harry laughed. "That's what the Sorting Hat said."

Draco's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

…

Pansy looked into the enchanted glass she had accidentally-on-purpose left in Potter's house. It allowed her to look at the reflection of any mirror in the house. She smiled as she watched (but couldn't hear, much to her annoyance) Potter and Draco talking long into the night. She set her enchanted glass aside, content that things had gone as they should have. She sent a note to Theo before going to sleep.

 _They made up, but they didn't kiss. You owe me ten Galleons._


	10. Chapter 10: Happy Anniversary

**Author's Note: Hello, my lovelies. As a form of apology for changing my update schedule for the worse, I am posting yet another new chapter this week. I will not be posting two chapters every two weeks, unless I have a surplus of written material, which doesn't happen often. I was simply lucky enough to have a surge of creativity and drive. And, if this chapter is any indication, hormones.**

 **Censored version on Fanfiction. Uncensored version on Adult fanfiction.**

 **All disclaimers for previous chapters apply.**

 **Chapter Ten: Happy Anniversary**

Things had settled down at Grimmauld Place, though very few would say that there was nothing special. After all, who wouldn't be surprised to see the Prince of Slytherin and the Savior laughing over a spot of tea, or trading friendly insults during a shared meal? But for Harry and Draco, this was their version of a normal life. It lasted for six days this time before another incident sent them spiraling again.

Harry woke up eagerly. Today was a special day, although he wasn't sure how special Draco would think it would be. Still, Harry felt the need to celebrate. He checked his watch, six am. He briefly debated whether or not to try to go back to sleep, but quickly decided against it when he felt excitement thrumming through his veins. Instead, he acted with his typical impulsivity and recklessness and charged, pajamas and all, into Draco's bedroom.

Draco was, as per usual, fast asleep. Until Harry leaped onto his bed and began jumping on it like a madman. Draco awoke rather quickly, and Harry fell off the bed as he was hit with a Stunning jinx. Harry groaned, and suddenly saw a very surprised, concerned, and sleepy Draco's head appear over the edge.

"Harry?" Draco said, voice still heavy with sleep. "Are you okay?"

Draco got out of bed and helped Harry up. Harry dusted himself off, a little less enthusiastic but still excited.

"I'm fine, I've had much worse. Though I won't wake you up that way again." Harry grinned. "Happy anniversary!"

Draco gave him that look he hated, the one where it was clear Draco was unsure of Harry's sanity. "Harry, we don't _have_ an anniversary. How hard did you hit your head?"

Harry laughed, dodging Draco as he tried to check Harry's head for wounds. "No, silly git. You've been here for a month."

Draco gave a rueful smile. "Ah, yes. So I have. And this is cause for celebration?"

Harry crossed his arms. A sign of deliberate stubbornness, Draco had learned. "Yes."

Draco smiled. "Well, then. What shall we do today?"

He had to stop himself from laughing as Harry looked suddenly lost. "Um...well, I thought it would be harder to convince you to celebrate. I was rather focused on that part."

Draco tsked. "Seeing only the battle, not the victory. How typical. Let's see...how does a Gryffindor-Slytherin truce party sound?"

Harry's brow furrowed. "A Gryffindor..."

"...Slytherin truce party. Pansy suggested it a few days ago. If our last few interactions are to be believed, my friends and yours are ready to bury the hatchet. Might as well make it official."

Harry broke out into a wide, bright smile before catching Draco up in a hug, again acting solely on impulse. "That's a wonderful idea, Draco." He suddenly pulled back and away, which Draco was opposed to but couldn't logically argue against. "I'll let Ron and Hermione know. And they'll bring Seamus and Dean, maybe George..."

Harry rattled on as he left the room, his mind already on the Floo calls he would make. If he'd looked back at Draco, he would've seen one of the softest smiles ever to grace the Slytherin's face.

…

The Boar's Feast was a suggestion made by Seamus. According to Harry, Seamus had had a short fling with the proprietor of the Three Broomsticks, and she had introduced him to it. Draco later learned from Pansy that Madame Rosmerta had been Seamus's one attempt at being straight while he and Dean had been 'separated', after one month of which he all but ran back into Dean's arms. The on-again, off-again couple were notorious for finding the best places, although Harry swore Draco was better at it when Draco had looked very bitter upon that revelation.

Which lead to Harry and Draco showing up a few minutes late, joining the crowd that had mostly already arrived at the large, open room reserved for them. It was clearly designed for parties, a large open space taking up half the room, the other half filled with dining tables and buffet tables laden with rich and aromatic food. Draco was reluctantly dragged away by Blaise and Gregory, and Harry drifted over to where Ron and Hermione were standing.

"Harry!" Hermione said, going to hug him as soon as she laid eyes on him. Harry smiled as a familiar feeling, much like that of coming home, came over him. He hugged her tight before releasing her.

"Hey, that's my girlfriend. You better watch it." Ron said jokingly, lightly hitting Harry on the arm.

"I think she'd curse me if I tried." Harry said easily. "And I'd hate to have you throwing up slugs again."

Ron pinked a little at the reminder of his botched magic, but took the teasing easily. The three friends chatted and got caught up on anything they might have missed in their brief visits or letters. Too soon, the idle chitchat turned to a subject Harry had known to expect, but had been hoping to avoid.

"Well," Hermione had said in response to Ron complaining of boredom, "we'll have schoolwork to distract us when we go back this year. _Won't we, Harry?_ "

It was clear that the question was rhetorical, but Harry wasn't as certain. " _If_ I go back, we'll most likely spend all our time studying. We were gone last year, after all."

Hermione's face hardened. She wasn't backing down so easy. "McGonnogal has created a special one-time program for Eighth Years. It was designed for those who could not study as well as they should last year, due to the tensions of the war. I believe we fall into that category."

"We do." Harry said, tension making his neck stiffen. "Doesn't mean we _have_ to be in the program, though."

"All Eighth Years are automatically enrolled."

"And if I don't want to be an Eighth Year?"

"Look who I found!"

Harry and Hermione paid Ron no attention, too busy glaring at each other. Ron tried again, clapping in between their faces to get their attention. Harry and Hermione drew back, startled. Ron quickly stepped in the small space between them.

"'Mione, there's some haggis over on that other table. Didn't you say you wanted me to try some?"

Harry watched Ron lead Hermione away, a little too happy to see his best friend being managed.

"The first time Weasley is ever happy to see me, and it's because you're fighting with Granger. Am I in an alternate universe?"

Harry felt a smile before he even consciously decided to wear one. He turned towards Malfoy, putting his back to Ron and Hermione, who was still in a snit. "Oh, yes. Could you not already tell?"

Whatever reply Draco was about to make was cut off as an already-inebriated Seamus forced drinks into their hands before continuing on his mission to get everyone drunk. Dean followed close behind with napkins and apologies, before he had to disappear into the crowd behind his boyfriend. Harry chuckled as he saw them make their way through the socializing and truce-making Gryffindors and Slytherins. Harry saw a few odd pairings and groups before turning back to Draco, still grinning.

"Charming." Draco said dryly as he patted his suit where Seamus had spilled the drink. He then lifted his cup towards Harry. "Shall we?"

Harry bit his lip, hesitating. "Should we?"

He could see in Draco's eyes the moment he understood what he was asking. Last time they had gotten drunk together, things had gotten...complicated. Harry knew his answer when a wicked gleam winked to life in Draco's eyes.

"Do you trust me?"

Harry spent a few minutes seriously considering the question. Did he trust Draco? Yes, they were friends now, but did he really trust him? Seeing the light slowly dim in Draco's eyes, Harry took a deep breath and drew on his tried-and-true bravery in the face of danger.

"Yes." He admitted softly. "I trust you."

Draco gave him a soft smile in reward before downing his drink in one go. Harry followed suit, not wanting to lag behind Draco in anything.

The last sober thought he had was, _But danger never looked so good._

…

 _This seems oddly familiar,_ Harry thought sarcastically as he and Draco all but fell through the door. He snorted in laughter at the thought, the sound of which caused an eruption of drunken giggles in Draco. Harry smiled down at the figure still slightly bent over.

"Wanna try the stairs?" Harry asked.

Draco shrugged, almost falling over in the process. "Made it last time, didn't I?"

It took much longer than normal, but the two did make it up the stairs with minimal damage. Harry stood on the landing, staring at his bedroom door.

"What's the matter?" Draco asked as he stood next to Harry, watching him intently.

"I don't want to go to my room." Harry said, his voice so low that Draco almost couldn't hear it. He did, though, and his Slythein mind took the admission very encouragingly.

"Come to my room, then." Draco said. He went and tried to open the door, forgetting that the thick wood tended to stick. He responded the resistance with a powerful shove, which opened the door. It also sent him flying inside, falling to the floor in a heap. Harry called his name in concern, following him inside automatically. However, he was too drunk to realize that Draco was already moving. He'd flipped himself back over and was about to stand when Harry tripped over his leg, falling on top of him. Draco grunted hard, the full weight of the Golden Boy hitting him right in the abdomen and knocking the wind out of him.

"Whoa." Harry said, his sudden fall making him dizzy. He slowly leaned up into he could look into Draco's face. "You okay?"

"Peachy." Draco muttered, still out of breath and in some pain. Without thinking, he moved Harry's hips so that he wasn't sitting on his stomach. His eyes widened as he realized his mistake, an expression that Harry mirrored almost perfectly as he realized not only where he was sitting, but what he was sitting _on._

"Um, Draco?" Harry said, his voice small and unsure. Draco put a finger to his lips, shushing him.

"You think too much." Draco said. "Just feel."

Harry could've told Draco that he was not capable of thought at that point, but that would've required the ability to form words. Although the distinct ridge under Harry demanded his attention, he found himself caught up in Draco's eyes. If you had asked Harry a year ago what color Draco's eyes were, he would have said grey. Now, though, grey seemed so inadequate it was almost comical that he had ever considered the simple description. Draco's eyes were not simply _grey_. When he was angry, they were the cold steel of a sword ready to slice its opponent to bits. When he was excited, they were glittering oval diamonds. When he was sad, they were dull and lifeless rock that was too heavy to bear.

And sometimes, when he had a Harry sitting on his 'sword,' they were molten silver that sent white-hot heat through Harry's body, slowly melting him from the inside out.

"Harry."

It took Harry a while to realize that Draco had said his name several times, trying to get his attention.

"Yes?"

"Either move or get off me, I can't...you're so..."

Harry's eyes widened. "You want me."

Draco narrowed his. "Noticed that, did you?"

"Well, yes...but... _you...want...me._ "

"Oh, good God." Draco growled. "Either move on me or move off me, but for Merlin's sake _do something!_ "

Harry felt his breath hitch as Draco's hips began to move of their own accord. The friction felt so good against his neglected cock, which was very quickly rising to the occasion. He let out an involuntary whimper as Draco kept grinding against him, encouraged by his response.

"Yes, Potter, yes." Draco said breathlessly.

Hearing his last name caused a shock to go through Harry. It brought him back to reality in a harsh crash, and before he knew it he was scrambling away from Draco.

"I...I'm sorry." He said, before getting up and leaving. He fled to his room, shutting the door hard behind him. His head was filled with thoughts and feelings, and he quickly reached into his pants and brought himself off, thinking of Draco the entire time despite his best efforts not to. He collapsed into his bed, asleep as soon as he was horizontal.

Meanwhile, a certain blonde lay on the ground. He had also spent himself thinking of his roommate. He looked in the direction Harry would be, breathing heavily.

"Oh, Harry Potter. You are so mine."


	11. Chapter 11: Would You Won't You Will You

**Author's Note: This is a long chapter, but it is filled with goodies. I'm really glad that people seem to be liking the story, this foray into public writing has gone so much better than I thought it would. Thank you everyone for your support, it means a great deal.**

 **Disclaimers from earlier chapters still apply. This chapter isn't explicit or graphic (at least, not by my definition) but it is a little racy. There are mentions of an activity not everyone finds appealing. It is a gay pairing, so gay things are going to cum up. Innocents, avert your eyes!**

 **Chapter 11: Would You, Won't You, Will You**

Harry knew he was in a big, stinking heap of trouble. Since he had woken up that morning, he could think of nothing except for his infuriating, overbearing, confident, sexy...no! Annoying, arrogant, evil, devious, devilish, decadent...no, no, no! His stupid roommate that he was absolutely _not_ obsessing over. Or thinking about. Or fantasizing about.

...But if he _were_ thinking about a certain Slytherin in repetitive circles of confusion and feelings that Harry refused to define or name, then he definitely needed help. He knew he couldn't trust Ron with something like this. He would either laugh his arse off or vomit, neither of which would be particularly helpful. Hermione wouldn't be entirely objective either, she would spend the rest of the day explaining in painful detail why this... _thing_...with Draco was bad for his future, and his health. She could probably even talk him into thinking that too. Although he admitted that there may be a grain of truth in that assessment, it wasn't the kind of advice he needed right now. He needed someone who would listen, someone who had no personal stake. Someone who was fond enough of both of them to want to genuinely help, with absolutely no ulterior motives. Which, unfortunately, also ruled out Pansy. As much as he wanted to turn to her for advice about Draco, she would more than likely take Draco's side. As would Blaise and Theo, though Harry hadn't truly considered writing them. They weren't close enough for that yet.

He drew a blank.

He had a sheet of paper in front of him, ready to be written upon. His sharpened quill was in his hand, the tip of which he was tapping against his lips in thought. Who did he know that would be completely objective, that would want to do what was best for all involved, that wouldn't take sides?

The answer hit Harry like a bolt of lightning, the irony of which was not lost on him. He quickly penned out a request for a meeting. He sent the hired owl on its way, smiling to himself in relief. Finally, someone who could give him a solution. A thump on the ceiling above him, originating from the floor above, made him look up at his roommate's approximate location with a sigh.

What was he to do in the meantime, though?

…

Harry had sent Draco on a wild goose chase, which he felt a little bad about. Of course, he didn't necessarily _know_ that Slug and Jiggers Apothecary didn't have nightshade. But since it was almost exclusively used in Dark potions, it was a fair guess. And since Draco wasn't allowed to go to Knockturn Alley...yeah, he definitely felt bad. But Pansy had wanted to talk to him, and him alone. He wasn't sure why she had told him not to tell Draco, but he had kept his silence anyway. Now there she was, browsing the considerable Black family library, yet again making Harry feel like a guest in his own home. He knew he should really resent that, or at least stop it, but he found it really didn't bother him that much.

"I really need to visit more often." Pansy said, so softly that Harry was sure she was talking to herself rather than him. "There are some very rare tomes here."

"Well, if it didn't mean kicking Draco out of his own home..."

Pansy turned to him and smiled. "Draco's own home, huh?"

Harry blushed, but didn't trust himself to answer. His silence did him no good, and in fact he thought it may have condemned him. Pansy, whom Harry had discovered earlier was an insatiable gossip, gamboled over to the table he was sitting at and sat across from him.

"Harry." She said, her smile becoming more and more disturbing. "Something you want to share with the class?"

Harry's eyes widened in a fear that only Slytherins could instill in him. He slowly shook his head.

Pansy's smile widened. "Harry, dear. Tell me what's on your mind."

Harry looked away, flushing again in embarrassment. He knew she would never let it go until he told her, and might even resort to blackmail. And besides, a part of him did want to confess. She'd given good advice before, albeit on Draco's behalf. Maybe...

"Well, there is something." Harry said quietly.

"Mm-hmm?" Pansy urged, leaning almost completely over the table in her thirst for knowledge.

"It's...about Draco. He...he sort of...well, we..."

"Just spit it out, Harry."

"I'm getting to it." Harry said, a bit harshly. He gave a small smile of apology before looking away again. "We...kissed."

Pansy's eyes widened. "When?"

Harry grumbled the answer, and Pansy frowned.

"Harry, I can't hear you. Speak up."

"I said, last night."

"Oh." Pansy said, absorbing the information quickly. "Where did he kiss you?"

"In his bedroom."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to bother correcting you, poor innocent soul that you are. Why does this have you in such a fit, then?"

Harry scoffed. "It's _Malfoy._ You know, my arch rival. The boy whom I have hated these past seven years. The one who deliberately got me detentions, threw a snake at me, betted _for_ my death in the Tournament, tried to help bring about my demise several years after said bet, crushed my nose with his foot, and just generally made my life hell. Gee, now that you mention it, I can't think of a single reason _not_ to like the prat."

Pansy pursed her lips, which Harry knew was not a good sign. "Harry, I am only going to say this once, so listen close. You can sit here and be bitter about everything you and Malfoy did to each other. You can spend the rest of your time with him grumbling in that unattractive way you do about all the qualities you dislike in him. You can even start fighting with him again. Or you can put on your big boy panties, suck it up, and forgive the git once and for all. But you cannot keep going back and forth on whether or not you've gotten past your guys' history. It's not fair to you, it's not fair to Draco, and it's not fair to the people, especially the benevolent and all-knowing Pansy, who have to listen to both of you completely obsess over each other."

Harry's back straightened. "Draco obsesses over me?"

Pansy snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Focus, Potter."

Harry frowned. "Don't call me that."

Pansy nodded slightly. "Fine. Harry, do you forgive him and swear to never dwell on your past again, or will you spend the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you had?"

Harry didn't really need to think about it. He'd just needed someone to talk him through it, to tell him that it was okay to let it go. He held no grudges, he just didn't want his feelings to lead him blindly to heartache. But if Pansy's reaction was anything to go by, there was at least something for him to build off of. He wasn't sure what exactly _it_ would be, but he wasn't opposed to finding out.

He realized Pansy had been waiting for an answer during his inner monologue, and was growing more and more agitated with every passing second. He grinned at her, and gave the best answer he could think of.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

He didn't have to elaborate. Pansy's wide smile let him know she understood. Suddenly, her smile fell and she socked him on the arm.

"Ow!" Harry yelped. "What was that for?"

"I have to give the ten Galleons back!"

…

Draco wandered from shop to shop in Diagon Alley, not really paying attention to anything in particular. His focus was inward. Rather, his focus was on a peculiar man with black hair, green eyes, and more problems than a NEWT exam. And, if his inebriated self had estimated correctly, a generously sized...wand.

He watched with disinterest as two mothers walking with their children both steered said children to stay away from him. It came to him to snap at them about Death Eater Disease not being contagious, but he didn't have the heart for snark today. Which just went to show how far gone he was already. Since when had Draco Malfoy _not_ wanted to insult his lesser-thans?

He did wonder, if Harry had a child, would he keep it away from Draco? What would a child of Harry's look like? A looker, no doubt. The Potter family tree was full of ruggedly handsome men and homespun, pretty women. So unlike the patrician but classically beautiful Malfoys. Would Harry's son have his father's righteous indignation? Would Harry's daughter feel the need to befriend everyone, regardless of status or rank? Would the child be a Gryffindor, brave and reckless? Would it be a Hufflepuff, kind and true? Never a Slytherin, although Draco would definitely argue that Slytherin had its good points, and that Harry had them. And, Draco surmised with a laugh, any trait that landed the kid in Ravenclaw would not be received from Harry. For all Harry's virtues, he was hardly the sharpest quill in the bunch.

Draco stopped in front of a sweets shop. He'd watched Harry at Hogwarts for years, but had never been close enough to observe more than the overall behavior of a messy eater. Now that he sat next to him during their meals together, he could observe as much as he wanted. Two things had caught him off guard: how truly messy Harry was, and the size of his sweet tooth. During breakfast one morning, Draco had joked about how Harry would eat nothing but pure sugar if he'd been able. Although it was a joke, Harry's penchant for anything sweet was not. Draco wondered how Harry had been able to stay so skinny all these years. He'd have to ask Harry about that one of these days, but for now Draco turned his thoughts to a particularly important upcoming event. In a month and a half, it would be Harry's birthday. If Draco were to accomplish what he'd been setting out to do since his own birthday, he'd need that much time to prepare.

Still, Draco thought as he entered the shop, planning Harry's birthday could wait a few more minutes. Draco's plan for seducing Harry required more immediate attention. Chocolate frogs seemed to be Harry's favorite, so Draco purchased several. He would hide them and give one to Harry every day, in exchange for small favors. A kiss on the cheek, a small secret, a frivolous activity. Draco smiled as the possibilities multiplied in his mind.

This was going to be fun.

…

Meanwhile, Harry sat in the Black library, oblivious to Draco's machinations. Instead, he was groaning as he listened to Pansy go on...and on... _and on_ about Draco's many, many virtues.

"...and he sings to himself in the shower when he thinks no one is awake. It's adorable, especially since he almost always picks Muggle music."

Harry frowned. "How did he hear any Muggle music, anyway?"

Pansy shrugged. "No idea, but some if it is actually quite good. Although I will deny saying that if you ever reveal that fact, and will delight in skinning you alive."

Harry gulped. "I'm good, thanks."

Pansy's smile went from being scary, to friendly again. "Good. Now, where was I?"

"The Great Draco, and his penchant for music."

"Ah, yes. Did you know he can play the piano? He's very good. And when he sings, oh."

Harry smirked. "Sounds like you're a little in love with him, Pans."

Pansy tsked. "I will leave that to you, darling."

Harry scoffed, but said nothing. Pansy forged on, relentless. "I'm not sure what your problem is, since you agreed that you'd let the past go. I would shag him, and I don't even fancy him."

"Who are we talking about?"

Harry turned around, seeing said object of lust leaning against the door frame. Harry had heard the phrase "like the cat that caught the canary," but he had never seen a true example of the phrase. Until now. Draco looked like he was quite pleased with himself. He also looked like he wanted to devour Harry where he sat.

"Um," Harry articulated, his traitorous cheeks blushing so hot he felt feverish. Or perhaps that was just the effect Draco had on him. It was hard to tell. "Nobody. Nothing. No one."

"Hmm." Draco said, his gaze resting heavily on Harry. "I don't believe you. Who were you talking about, Pans?"

"You." Pansy said sweetly. Harry turned and glared at her for her betrayal. She shrugged it off and blew him a kiss before walking to the door of the library. She gave Draco a smile and a pat on the shoulder before she sauntered off.

And suddenly they were alone.

"So," Draco said after a few moments of uncomfortable (for Harry, at least) silence, "you wouldn't shag me?"

Harry spluttered. "What? I...what I meant was...the thing is-"

"So you _would_ shag me?" Draco asked smugly.

"No!" Harry said a little too quickly, his response a little too loud.

If anything, Draco's smirk widened. "Pity." He said. Harry spluttered some more, and Draco moved across the room to stand next to him, leaning onto the table and invading Harry's personal space.

"You wouldn't shag me." Draco said, his tone seemingly casual but with an undercurrent of something Harry didn't want to examine too closely. "Would you frot with me?" Draco asked. Harry licked his lips in a nervous gesture, his breath hitching as he saw Draco's eyes follow the movement.

"N-no." Harry said, his breathing as unsteady as his conviction. Even as he refused, he felt as though an entirely different conversation were taking place.

"Too bad." Draco said, tsking. "Would you blow me?"

"What? I...no."

"Hmm. Would you let me blow you?"

"I..." Harry's voice trailed off, his concentration turning inward towards a suddenly erotic imagination.

"It's a simple question, Harry. Would. You. Blow. Me?"

Harry didn't know where he found the determination to break the eye contact he'd maintained up to this point, but he was able to look away. It didn't help. Draco was still there, smelling like pine and lemon and _goodness_. Harry groaned under his breath. Draco gently grasped his chin with two fingers, turning his head to re-establish the staring contest, quite unlike the ones they'd had at school.

"You're being very, very evil right now." Harry said.

Draco grinned. "I'm just asking a few questions. You can stop answering anytime you like. Now, Harry, would you let me suck your cock?"

Harry gulped. "...No?"

Draco arched a brow. "I think you're overreacting, Harry. What's a blowjob between friends? Now, would you let me suck you off if I asked nicely?"

Harry almost moaned out loud from the mental imagery playing in his brain, the irresistible scene being painted by Draco's words.

"Y...yes?"

Draco gave him a small smile.

"Willing to take a blowjob but not give one? That's not very noble of you, is it?"

Harry could tell that the conversation was getting out of hand, but his raging hormones made him powerless to stop it. He was drowning in those grey lakes, and there was nothing he could do about it. And he wasn't sure he would even if he could. Almost as if he could hear his thoughts, Draco's smile grew.

"So, you would let me take your cock in my mouth. Would you let me put my tongue in yours?"

Harry was beginning to pant. He didn't bother trying to speak, he simply nodded.

"Excellent." Draco said. "What about elsewhere? Would you let me put my tongue elsewhere?"

Harry hesitated, but nodded again.

"How about in your arsehole? Would you let me put my tongue there?"

Harry's breath caught. He'd never imagined such a thing, how no idea what it would be like. His arsehole, as if hearing its name, clenched a bit in both fear and anticipation. He didn't understand why Draco would want to do such a thing, but he wasn't completely disgusted by imagining being on the receiving end.

Draco broke Harry's musings. "We'll work up to that, then." He suddenly leaned much closer, and put his face just in front of Harry's. Harry could feel Draco's breath ghosting across his lips, could taste the faint hint that reminded him of the coffee Draco liked to drink. His eyes, of their own accord, were drawing to half-mast.

"Would you kiss me?" Draco said, and Harry felt his words more than he heard them. Draco leaned in that impossibly small fraction closer, making their lips brush across each other without actually letting them touch.

"Would you let me kiss you?" Draco's lips brushed against his with every word, the movement hypnotizing. "Would you let me devour you, let me ravish you in all the ways that I've been dreaming about?"

Harry's eyes closed completely, and he surrendered to the idea of being led into this wonderful, mystical world of pleasure and temptation whose magic put that of the wizarding world's to shame. He felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into the spell Draco was weaving. If he had been capable of thought, he would have wondered how he could feel as though he were drowning and taking his first real breath all at once. He nodded, a distant echo of a thought that Draco's lips had eclipsed. Draco groaned in pained ecstasy, though Harry couldn't remember from what. When Draco slowly but surely began to add steady pressure, bringing their lips together, Harry opened his eyes. He felt a startling shard of clarity pierce him, and he let it. It was not unwelcome, or unpleasant, only slightly unsettling.

Although technically it wasn't, this was their first kiss. The first one where alcohol could not be an excuse. The first one where they could both admit to wanting it, though Draco seemed much more sure of himself than Harry did. The first kiss where they were meeting as Draco and Harry, equals on the battlefield of lust. Here, they held power over each other. Not for pain, but for pleasure. Here, there were no losers. Here, the voices in both of their heads were silenced.

Harry watched Draco close his eyes as the pressure increased more and more, until finally transforming into a proper kiss. It was a little awkward without alcohol to smooth the way, but it was more intense without it dulling their senses. Harry knew he gave a small gasp, and he was pretty sure Draco did as well. He had intended to watch Draco, to memorize the faces he made while embracing him, but he couldn't fight the drugging pleasure. He closed his eyes against his will, and felt even more because of it.

He didn't know how long it went on. Minutes, days, years. Eventually, though, they had to part for air. When they did, Harry opened his eyes. Draco was staring at him, his mouth swollen and the color of raspberries. Harry leaned forward to take a love bite out of it when Draco spoke.

"Not gay, huh?"

It was like a bucket of cold water. Harry sat back, expecting a barrage of insults. Draco saw the reaction, but other than a concerned look he didn't react. Instead, he got up and went to leave the library. As he came across Harry, he suddenly stopped and dug in his pocket. He dropped something on Harry's lap before leaning over him.

"Good boy." Draco whispered, kissing his lips one last time. Harry felt an electric shock run through him at the unexpected contact. By the time he managed to open his eyes again, Draco was gone. He looked down at his lap, and his brow furrowed in confusion.

Why had Draco given him a Chocolate Frog?


	12. Chapter 12: Innuendo Implicitus

**Author's Note: Fire burn and cauldron bubble, give me Drarry and make it double! Two chapters yet again, a round of applause to my overactive muse. (He bows and says thanks.) Not much else to say, other than to of course thank the readers for their support. You guys are the reason I write.**

 **Disclaimers apply. No copyright infringement intended. No animals were harmed in the making of this story. Etc.**

 **Chapter 12: Innuendo Implicitus**

The morning had started out pleasantly enough, with Draco trying to practice 'bedroom eyes' and Harry pointedly ignoring him. Unfortunately, after breakfast there had been an incident Harry didn't think he would ever forget. He sat across from Draco in the sitting room, barely containing the giddy feeling inside of him that was fighting to get out.

"Draco," Harry began.

"This is not up for discussion, Potter."

The words were more bitten than said, but Harry paid no attention. He was used to Draco's worsening temper and darkening moods.

"Draco."

"We are _not_ talking about this, Potter."

Although Harry could certainly sympathize with Draco's plight, he couldn't let the topic go. It was too delicious, a delectable morsel that would not be denied. It made the dizzy feeling in his chest grow bolder.

"Draco, your reaction was perfectly normal, all right?"

Draco kept staring out the window, as if it were so utterly fascinating that he was incapable of looking elsewhere.

"It was so _big._ " He whispered.

Harry felt the giddy feeling gush forward, but tamped it down again. "I'm sure it seemed that way at the time." He said tactfully, not wanting to get punched in the nose.

Draco didn't look at him, but his eyes did narrow in response. Harry felt a flutter inside his belly, but ignored the feeling yet again.

"I swear, Potter, it was _staring at me._ And don't tell me that it was innocent or coincidental, because it most certainly was _not._ "

Harry wanted to deny it, but didn't think it a wise choice of action. Instead, he pushed forward as graciously as he was able. "Listen, I don't want you to feel bad."

"I don't!"

"Good. Because what happened isn't the worst thing in the world. Okay?"

Draco sniffed haughtily, turning up his nose. "I knew that."

Harry rolled his eyes, but was saved from replying as not one, but two owls crashed into the window. He ignored the way Draco jumped, but felt a little of his giddiness escape in a giggle. Draco glared at him, and Harry could fight the feeling no more. The laughter that had been building inside of him spilled forth, quickly escalating from boyish giggles to a full-belly laugh. He gasped a little as Draco kicked him in the shin, but continued laughing so hard it hurt and he could barely breathe. While he was in the midst of his laughing fit, Draco retrieved the letters, including yet another one collected from a more docile and friendly owl. Draco sent the two rambunctious owls on their way, but gave the nice one an Owl Treat before letting it fly off. He barely gave the envelopes a cursory glance before ripping them open and reading their contents. Harry finally calmed down from laughing so hard, feeling better than he had in a good, long while. Draco looked utterly unimpressed.

"If you're quite finished." He said, his tone disdainful. Although Harry would never say so aloud, Draco drastically reminded him of Lucius Malfoy when he spoke like that.

"For now." Harry said, still giggling a little to himself. "What do the letters say?"

Draco cleared his throat dramatically before beginning to read the first one:

" _Harry Potter,_

 _I request your presence post-haste. Please meet me in the Room of Mysteries at eleven o'clock sharp tomorrow. It is most urgent that you come swiftly, and that you come alone._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Sir Daedalus Spurinna Lippershey the Third._ "

Harry wasn't sure what to think of the odd letter. "That's...interesting."

Draco smirked. "Oh, it gets better." Yet another unnecessary and overdramatic throat-clearing, and Draco was reading the second letter.

" _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _It has come to our attention that you have been contacted by a former employee of the Ministry. We strongly advise caution, and for there to be no further contact with this individual. If further attempts at contact are made, please inform the Ministry immediately. We wish you a good day._

 _Ignatius Dingleberry, Minister of Magic._ "

Although Harry did not have quite as low an opinion of the man as Draco, he couldn't but to snort and reply, "Is he using the royal 'we'?"

Draco smirked back at him. "We believe so."

Harry chuckled. By unspoken agreement, they were going to wait to discuss these matters further. "What's the last one, then?"

Draco didn't bother with the theatrics this time.

" _Dear Harry,_

 _I would love to see you again. The tea shops in Diagon Alley are lovely, but the ladies that frequent it have a worrying amount of Wrackspurts, which can be detrimental for brain health. There's an orchard on Cherry Street that is home to many Blibbering Humdingers, who help the lost find their way. Just watch out for Dabberblimps near the pond. I'll be there at three o'clock this afternoon._

 _Regards,_

 _Luna Lovegood._ "

"So," Draco said a little too airily, "you're consorting with Loony Lovegood now."

"Don't call her that. And she's my friend."

Draco got up and began walking away, turning back when he reached the door.

"Come on. If we start now, we might be able to brave that mangled mane of yours. Unless, of course, you're too scared."

Harry chuckled as he followed behind Draco, and couldn't help adding,

"Said the man who screamed because of a spider."

…

Harry could hardly believe it, but his hair was straight. And it looked _good._

He'd been sitting, bored and impatient, as Draco had worked on his hair using the 'abysmal and inadequate' tools at his disposal. His words, not Harry's. It had taken three hours, and a lot of cursing, but Draco had done the impossible. He had tamed the lion's mane.

Harry had never been vain about anything, much less his hair. In his mind, he had had no reason to be. However, seeing the transformation before his very eyes, he could definitely understand why Draco spent so long getting ready. Looking this good took a lot of time and effort.

"Who knew?" Draco murmured, his head resting on Harry's shoulder as he leaned forward to also look at the reflection. "Underneath that mangled mess, there was actually something to work with."

Harry took the compliment for what it was, ignoring the typical backhanded way it was given. He also studiously ignored how heated his shoulder and head were becoming from such close proximity.

"It is definitely very different." Harry said, still unable to believe how different he looked just from one small change. But, as he looked at the blonde head in the mirror, he knew it was more than just his hair. Draco had slowly changed him over the course of their time together, and he had no doubt he would continue to do so. Harry didn't think he could fight it even if he wanted to, and he found he didn't want to. All he could do was go along for the ride and pray it was for the better.

"You're brooding." Draco said, though it was more curious than derisive.

"I'm thinking."

"Seems intense. Galleon for your thoughts?"

Harry sighed. "Just thinking about how different things are now."

Draco raised a brow. "Like?"

"Like this." Harry said, motioning to the two of them. "Any time we got this close to each other, we'd start fighting. It's strange that we're...friends now."

Draco went very still, a reaction Harry recognized from when he was completely caught off guard by something. Suddenly, those grey eyes were blazing bright, like two suns. Harry felt his breath catch, and felt as though he was being hypnotized.

"As your friend," Draco said, his voice lowering, "Let me point something out to you." His head slowly turned until he was facing Harry, but Harry's eyes stayed glued to the mirror. Draco never paused, his lips resting against Harry's ear.

"If you were as straight as your hair is right now," Draco began, and Harry felt twin threads of dread and anticipation roll through him, "you wouldn't like this at all.

"You would be disgusted," Draco said, kissing behind Harry's ear. "Angry," Another kiss, this time to the line of his jaw. "Indignant." A kiss to the bottom of his chin.

"You would not be welcoming." Draco's lips dragged across his skin to the side of his neck, where each word led to a kiss against his heated skin. "Or breathless. Or ecstatic. Or..." Draco sighed heavily, making Harry shiver. He could tell that Draco was just above that one spot that always seemed to be more sensitive than the others. Harry heard a faint whimper escape him, but the feelings going through his body drowned it out. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he waited, needing to know what would come next. Thankfully, just when he was ready to beg, Draco acquiesced.

"Aroused." Draco growled, kissing forcefully into that magical spot. Harry didn't know how to describe the noise that came from him, he could only be glad that it was not nearly as loud as it felt. Still, he felt more than saw Draco's grin before he retreated, smirking at Harry. Harry was flushed, breathless, and painfully aroused. He looked at Draco, silently pleading for something, though what he didn't know. Draco trailed his fingers against that spot on his neck. He reached into his pocket, and Harry looked in curiosity. Draco put something that felt familiar in his hand, closing his fingers around it. Without a word, he left the room. Harry, still panting and still very hard, opened his hand.

Seriously, what was with the Chocolate Frogs?

…

"I think he's trying to give me a fetish for Chocolate Frogs."

Harry and Luna were walking side by side through the Pickadilly Orchard. They'd spent the past two hours walking about aimlessly, Harry pouring his heart out to the least judgmental person he knew. Luna had listened quietly, occasionally asking a clarifying question but mostly just letting Harry get all the burdens off his chest. Harry had discussed his developing friendship and...whatever else it was that was between him and Draco. He had been talking of nothing else, which would've been impressive if it weren't so confusing. Which is why he still wasn't shutting up.

"The past two times we've...well, done things-"

"What kinds of things?" Luna asked, her light voice showing only the most mild curiosity.

"Well, the first time was a kiss. Or several, I don't know. The second time, it was after he...after he had kissed my neck." It sounded so simple, so silly a thing to get worked up over, but Harry couldn't find the words to describe how earth-shattering the experiences had been. "It was...intense."

"May I tell you something?"

Harry suddenly realized how rude he'd been. "I'm sorry, Luna. I'm being incredibly selfish, aren't I?"

Luna shook her head, giving Harry a small smile. "I like listening to people. They're fascinating. Especially you."

Harry couldn't help the small bit of pink that bloomed in his cheeks. Luna said it so calmly, so matter-of-fact. As if it never occurred to her to be embarrassed by what she was saying. Although sometimes he felt sorry for her, more often he envied Luna. She made everything seem so simple, so easy. It made her unrealistic, but he found that there was charm in that as well.

"Anyway," Harry said, "You wanted to say something?"

"Oh, yes." Luna said, as if she'd forgotten. "I don't think he's trying to fetishize Chocolate Frogs for you. I think he's trying to make you feel good about him, about the things you do together. And, although it may not have been intentional, I think he wants your favorite treat to remind you of him. That way, he'll never be far from your thoughts."

"That sounds..." Sappy. Romantic. Very, very gay. "Odd."

"Does it?" Luna said, casting doubt. "A lot of people want the ones they have a crush on to think about them constantly. At least, early on."

"Whoa." Harry said sharply. "No one said anything about having a crush."

Luna smiled at him, but it was a little more indulgent than he would have liked. "Of course not, Harry. You just kissed. Maybe more than once."

Harry flushed. Though he hated to admit it, the girl had a point. "Still."

She dropped that particular subject, for which he was grateful. "It doesn't really matter. That's not why you wanted to see me, anyway."

Harry winced, feeling guilty for being so selfish. "I'm sorry, Luna."

"No worries, Harry." Luna said easily. "I'm more than happy to help a friend in need. I will say, you're not as confused as you think you are. Your hesitation isn't because you don't trust Draco, or because of your rocky past with him. At least, not completely. It's nothing more or less than pure fear, Harry. You've never been in this position before. Even when you tried to go out with Cho and Ginny, it was never quite like this. Draco has power over you, he always has. His opinion has always mattered a great deal."

Here she paused, going to the side of the pond and picking up stones, skipping them over the water as if she weren't leaving Harry hanging.

"What was I saying? Oh, yes. You care very deeply what he thinks, more than you have about anyone. When you give someone that kind of power, there's a risk. A risk that they could use it to hurt you. And although a lot of people would disagree with me, Harry, I think you would be having just as much trouble with this even if you and Draco had been the closest of friends."

Harry swallowed his instinctive reactions, determined to hear her out. "And why do you think that is?"

Luna's smile turned a little sad as she turned around to face him. "You know why." She answered. She gave him a hug, which nearly broke him. He wondered how much she knew about his past, but couldn't bring himself to ask. It didn't really matter anyway. She pulled back, her usual soft smile of wonderment back in place.

"You know, you should tell him why you don't like for people to call you by your surname. I think it would help him a lot."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Of course." Luna said, suddenly grinning. "Race you to the Nargle nest!"

Harry followed after Luna, laughing at everything and nothing at all. He finally collapsed next to her, breathless. He had no idea if they were in a 'nargle nest' or not, but he also didn't much care.

"Oh, by the way, Harry." Luna said suddenly, as if she just remembered something.

Harry braced himself for yet another odd remark. "Yeah?"

"Nice hair."


	13. Chapter 13: Not So Different

**Author's Note: A huge thank you to everyone who has shown their support and their love, you are truly wonderful. I have a rather unfortunate announcement to make. Although this story is by no means finished and I will continue to write it, I will not be doing so with any frequency. I cannot continue to give this story the attention that I have been, as it has become too hectic for me. I promise not to give up, but the updates will be sporadic and infrequent. Thank you to everyone, I am sincerely sorry to do this to you.**

 **Chapter 13: Not So Different**

Harry came home feeling about ten stone lighter. He had known going to see Luna would be good for him, and it was. She had a way of putting things into perspective, of making him see the molehill instead of the mountain. Come to think of it, Pansy and Luna had that in common. He wondered if they'd had the chance to meet at the truce party, but tucked it away for later thought as he came through the front door.

"Draco?" Harry called out.

"In here."

Harry followed the direction the voice had come from, finding Draco in the library. The memories of their last encounter in this room made his insides do a tumble, but he made an effort to keep his composure.

"How was your date?"

Harry tilted his head. Did...did Draco really sound _jealous_? Harry felt a part of him that he identified as wholly Slytherin take notice and perk up.

"It was good to see Luna again." Harry said, evading the unspoken question. "I haven't seen her since the relief effort for the war. It was nice to chat, catch up."

Which they had finally gotten around to, after Harry had kicked himself in the arse and looked past his own issues. Luna had simply laughed, pointing out that he had always had a tendency to get lost in his own head. After that, they had easily slipped into small talk.

"Actually, there was something I wanted to mention. Or rather, ask. Mention and ask."

Draco raised an eyebrow before leaning forward with a smirk that made Harry's insides flip around again. "Oh, believe me, Harry. You have my _undivided_ attention."

Harry tried to ignore the blatant flirting, though it was a challenge. The way Draco's eyes were sparkling was very distracting...

"Um." Harry said, clearing his throat as he regained his focus. "Luna is going to be starting a new sub-division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Let me guess. _Imaginary Beasts and Where to Find Them?_ "

Harry rolled his eyes. "Points for the reference, but no. The Research and Conservation Department. She, and anyone she brings with her, will be finding new information about magical creatures, discovering new ones, and finding better solutions on how to handle them."

Draco seemed both disturbed and impressed. "How'd she get that past Dingle Bells?"

Harry smiled at the name, but chose not to comment. "She has been sending many, many letters to his secretary. Requesting appointments, requesting official meetings, and just generally making a nuisance of herself. He finally sent her a letter, which was basically a blanket approval. So now he has to let it pass, or else he'll be in contempt."

Draco definitely looked impressed. "Hmm. I may need to acquaint myself with your friends, Harry."

Harry smiled. "Good. You'll get a chance when you accompany me to the office party celebrating her department's debut."

Draco raised an eyebrow again. " _When_ I accompany you?"

Harry blushed, despite trying very hard not to. "If."

Draco nodded. "That's better. I don't want to be taken for granted. And yes, I will go as your date, since you asked so adorably."

Harry spluttered. "It's not a-"

"Make sure to go shopping before then." Draco said, speaking over Harry with infuriating ease. "You wore your only suitable robes at the 'coronation,' and it's not okay to wear the same outfit to two consecutive functions. Go to Twilfitt and Tatting's, their seamstress is from France. Lovely woman, not a single stitch out of place. Love to stay and chat, but I have something to do. Ta!"

Harry watched Draco rush out of the room. He rubbed the back of his neck in pleased embarrassment.

He had a date with Draco.

…

Harry didn't seek Draco out again that day. He figured that with everything that had happened lately, they needed a little space to breathe. Instead, he retreated into his office. He pinned up the two letters he had received that morning, looking intently at both from his place a few feet away. He was leaned back in his chair, spinning his wand almost carelessly between his fingers. The more he read the letters, the more he felt as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff. It was the same feeling he had gotten whenever he had been on the verge of discovering one of Voldemort's plots, though he usually didn't know the full extent of it until much later. Still, this feeling had never been wrong before. He dreaded what that meant for him, what it meant for his future.

Could he go meet this Lippershey person? How could he, knowing that he would be throwing himself back into the fray? Voldemort may be dead, but Harry was not stupid enough to think that his influence had been extinguished. He still had loyal followers out there, although luckily most of them had surrendered to the fact that Voldemort was gone, if not to the Aurors. Harry spun his wand faster. Could Lippershey be a Riddle groupie? Was that why Dingleberry was warning him against the meeting? Harry admitted that, from a logical standpoint, it made sense. But sense when had Gryffindors been guided by logic when there was a perfectly good gut feeling to go by? And his gut told him that the answer, as it so often was, was more complicated than that. He also knew that he would not get answers unless he went and saw this person.

Harry turned his chair away from the letters, needing a different perspective. He was faced with a wall of pictures. Dozens of different people in different moments in time, laughing and smiling. All the people he knew and loved, some here and some gone. His motivation for getting up in the morning, his reason for being. How could he start another adventure now, when so many of them had finally found a sort of peace? How could he put his life, his friends' lives, in danger when they had already been through so much, lost so much? And could he honestly think, that after everything he had been through, that his luck wouldn't eventually run out? What then?

A knock on the door startled him. He jumped up, the wand that had been idly twirling now standing at the ready. He made his way to the door, ready to cast a curse.

It was Draco, who quickly went from relaxed to very worried. He glanced between Harry's face and the wand currently pointed at him. "Either do something with it or put it away."

Harry quickly tucked it into the back of his jeans. "Sorry. Did you need something?"

Draco leaned against the doorjamb. "You've been sequestered in this room for twelve hours. I came to see if you needed mouth-to-mouth."

Harry gestured to his obviously healthy person. "I'm fine. Just distracted."

Draco's examination of him was much more thorough than Harry thought was necessary, and he felt as if he had somehow been touched by Draco everywhere his eyes lingered. When they locked eyes again, it felt as though there was an invisible fire dancing between them.

"So that's a no to the mouth-to-mouth, then?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Um, yeah. So, you hungry?"

Draco wasn't listening, peering past Harry's shoulder. "What's in there?"

Harry looked over his shoulder, into his little den. He quickly grabbed the two letters before stepping out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him and silently spelling it shut. Draco looked a little hurt, but mostly resigned.

"Off limits. Got it."

Harry showed him what he was holding. "I was...debating."

Draco pursed his lips. "I see."

Harry began walking, Draco falling into step behind him. "The way I see it, I have two options. I can go and see this Lippershey person, and see what he wants. Which could send me right back into danger, as well as those I care about. Or I can ignore it, and let everyone have some well-deserved peace and quiet."

Draco said nothing as they made their way to the library, but spoke up once they had sat down. "Potter, are you any good at chess?"

Harry remembered what Luna had said, about telling Draco why he was testy about his surname. He grabbed Draco's hand, ensuring he had his attention, before launching into an explanation.

"The only people who have ever called me Potter are the Dursleys, you, some Hogwarts students, Snape, the Death Eaters, and Voldemort. The Dursleys did not treat me well the entire time that I was with them, you made my life a living hell, the other students would constantly try to make my life even harder than it already was, Snape went out of his way to show everyone how much he hated me and everything I stood for, the Death Eaters spent all their time trying to truss me up like a pig to deliver to Voldemort, and Voldemort himself spent my entire life trying to figure out how to kill me before finally succeeding. Will you _please_ call me Harry?"

Draco's eyes got wider and wider as the explanation went on. He gave a weak nod, and Harry was surprised at how powerful his sigh of relief was.

"Thank you." He said softly. "And to answer your question, I'm shite at chess. If you want a chess expert, ask Ron. He beat a life-sized board first year."

Draco's eyes were full of questions, but he seemed to decide that now wasn't the time. "Right. So, the reason I asked was because you don't seem to see very many moves ahead."

Harry's confusion showed in his face. "What?"

Draco was recovering from his surprise at Harry's earlier outburst, though slower than usual. "Right now, you see two possibilities. You go, and everything falls apart. You don't go, and everything stays the way it is. However, there are other options. Let's say Lippershey has information you need, as he seems to imply. You don't go, you don't get the information. Let's say, for laughs, that he is going to tell you about a troll invasion. Just because you don't know the trolls are coming, doesn't mean that it won't happen. The invasion happens anyway, but because you didn't warn anyone, we are completely unprepared. The trolls take over, I get their bogies on my shirt, it's a disaster. Let's say you go, you get the information. There's still two further options: we win, or we lose."

Harry put his head in his hands. "So whether or not the wizarding world is going to survive is yet again up to me."

Draco went silent. Harry felt the change in the atmosphere, and he raised his head and looked at him. But in Draco's place was the Ice Prince of Slytherin.

"Harry James Potter." The Ice Prince said, his tone low and dangerous. "Do you have _any_ idea how many people have wanted to have one single important decision in their life be up to them? Do you have any _clue_ how many people I know that would kill to be in your position? All my life, I have been a part of pureblood society. Do you know how many times I've seen women ripped out of the arms of their lovers to be delivered to a 'better suitor' that would mistreat them for the rest of their lives? How many people I saw pursue jobs and careers that slowly sucked out their souls, powerless to stop it from happening? Can you possibly imagine how many times I heard somebody talk about how envious they are of you, how they would give anything to at least be able to have some control over their future? You hold the fate of our world in your hands, which we don't even know for sure is true yet, and you have the absolute _gall_ to sit there and say that _you_ are the one who is to be pitied? Shame on you, Harry Potter. Shame. On. You."

Harry said nothing throughout the whole speech. It seemed today was a day for revelations. He muddled over what Draco said, and for the first time saw past the contempt to the truth that the words held.

"You're right." Harry said. It was so quiet, he wasn't sure Draco could hear it. "You're absolutely right. I do have more power than most, and I have taken that for granted. But you don't know what it's like. You don't have people coming up to you on the streets, thanking you for dying for them. As if my death were something good, something that should have happened, rather than a tragedy that should've been avoided. You haven't gotten letters from grieving mothers and fathers, saying that if you had only been smarter, quicker, stronger, then their child would have lived. You don't have people wanting you to sign this, join that group, support this cause. 'You're the Boy Who Lived, the paragon of good, of course you want to help others.' You know why I looked forward to our fights?" Harry leaned forward, still talking slowly but sincerely. Draco and he had sustained unbroken eye contact since they entered the room, and Harry could see the silhouettes of the emotions swirling behind the icy exterior. "Because you didn't want a Savior. You didn't want the Boy Who Lived. You didn't idolize me, or demonize me. Not like that. You saw me for what I really was, what I really am. I'm selfish. I'm impulsive. I say the wrong things, I do the wrong things. I let other people tell me what I am, what I need to do, and then I just do it. I don't think about what's going to happen later. I'm brave, I'm reckless, I'm not particularly bright. I'm just Harry."

Draco took a deep breath before answering. "Your problem isn't being too this, or not enough that. Your problem is that you're never yourself."

Harry blinked a couple of times. "Excuse me?"

"You said it yourself." Draco said, his voice gentle. "The Boy Who Lived, the War Hero, the Savior of the Wizarding World. The Golden Boy, trapped inside his gilded cage. I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer without thinking. When was the last time you were just Harry?"

Harry tried to answer without thinking, but came up blank. "I don't know. I...I'm not sure I ever have."

Draco nodded. "I thought so. You're not a hero, or a villain. You're just a man who didn't get the full, excruciating experience of finding yourself when you're a teenager. A wounded soldier caught up in a war he didn't sign up for, in a fight he doesn't even understand."

Harry suddenly gave him a sad smile. "Seems we have a lot in common."

Draco gave a short chuckle. "I guess so. So, the question remains. What are you going to do, Harry?"

Harry took several long moments to answer. Finally, he looked at Draco again. Draco didn't think he'd ever seen Harry look so...confident? Driven? Motivated?

"I, for one, have had too much experience with troll bogies already."

As they left the library, coming up with different strategies, Draco finally came up with only word that could begin to describe Harry's current state.

Fiery. Harry was fiery.


	14. Chapter 14: You Say Planning, I Say Plot

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! I've been meaning to get back to this story for some time now, but hadn't been able to for reasons I will explain briefly. I had originally had huge plans for this fic. It was going to be a grand, sweeping story about dragon shifters who had their own secret society within the Wizarding World that Harry and Draco would be a part of. I quickly realized that this was a bit over my head, but couldn't figure out how to dial it down into a manageable story that was still faithful to what I had already written as well as the general fire/ice idea I'd had. After a few months I had a breakthrough, but still took a little more time to A. get back in the writing groove and B. get the details in order so that I could do my story justice. Now I'm back in it, and I'm looking forward to telling this story that, while different from my original idea, I still feel like is a good, wholesome Drarry story.**

 **That being said, I would still like to profusely apologize for my absence. As a fanfiction reader myself, I know how frustrating it is when an author seemingly disappears without a trace, leaving a story unfinished and their readers unfulfilled. I am very sorry for putting anyone through that, when you all have been so amazing and so lovely. I have always and will always appreciate the support you guys have given, which was way, way more than I had expected when I started actually publishing these little ideas of mine. My plans as of right now are to finish this fic and then start working on smaller stories while I also work on larger (but doable) ones. I cannot promise a regular update schedule, as I no longer have chapters pre-written, but I will try to do better.**

 **Normal disclaimer about not owning Harry Potter and not receiving money for a fanfic (is that a thing?) applies.**

 **Without further ado, here is the long-awaited Chapter 14.**

 **Chapter 14: You Say Planning, I Say Plotting**

Harry sat in his room, staring out the window. It was yet again raining, though it was a light drizzle that would only last a day. He had a book of offensive spells laying open on his lap, but he wasn't reading. He was staring out at the street, watching people as they passed by. He felt a bit like the Hunchback of Notre Dame in that moment, so much so that he began to hum 'Out There'. The weather and his listless activity allowed his thoughts to drift and settle.

After those revelations, he and Draco had backed off of serious subjects. They both needed to assimilate to their new view of each other, or rather their reinforced view. They had chatted about this and that for a while, then parted easily. Draco had mentioned writing to his mother, which was allowed due to their being family, although the guard at Azkaban would read the letter before handing it over. Whether Draco had any plans to talk to his father he hadn't said, and Harry was not curious or cruel enough to ask. He wouldn't blame Draco if he never spoke to Lucius again.

Prompted from their discussion, Harry wondered what Draco's childhood had been like. He imagined, as he had upon meeting Draco for the first time, that it was similar to Dudley's. Although many would (and had) envied Draco his privileged life, Harry had seen first-hand how destructive it could be. Dudley had been a right prat his entire life, thanks to the encouraged belief that he was better than everyone. It took an attack from a Dementor for him to become a decent human being. He believed Draco had been told something similar growing up, although he surmised that there would be pureblood ideation behind it rather than simple prejudice. Harry was sure that although his experience with the Dursleys gave him more insight than most, he did not truly understand the hardships Draco had faced. He wasn't sure, even if Draco explained everything in minute detail, that he ever would.

His thoughts wandered to Draco's assessment of his choices and the power therein, of the situation he currently found himself in in regards to Lippershey. He glanced at the watch on his wrist, noting the time before resuming his people watching. It was almost ten o' clock. He had an hour to figure out what to do. He supposed it came down simply to two questions: was going worth the risk of potentially putting everyone in danger, not mention going against the new Minister? Although he hadn't analyzed that part yet, he knew he should. Dingleberry didn't seem the type to take this king of slight lightly. Also, Arthur's warning from what seemed to be a lifetime ago still held true. Harry had bested the Ministry, had made a fool of them both in Voldemort's return and his defeat. Even at the party it had been evident, though he had been too busy focusing on Draco to truly note it at the time. How many eyes had followed him in anger, in jealousy, in cold-hearted malice? How many times in the past had he met an Auror, only to have that person spew insults at him? It was far from the majority, but Harry was not a naive fool anymore. Whether their opinions mattered to him personally, which they sometimes did, they mattered to his safety. An Auror who sought revenge for being upstaged by a mere boy could be just as deadly as a Death Eater. And it wasn't only the Aurors, although they were the ones Harry saw most often. In every branch of the Ministry there were those who would whisper about him, and although it was a rare occurrence of juvenile behavior, it still affected Harry to still be the target of such negative emotion. He could only imagine how difficult life would be if the Minister decided to go against him, and his life would be an absolute nightmare if he did so publicly.

The second question was whether he, as a man with morals and responsibilities, could afford not to go. Like it or not, he was in a position of power. Until the legend died down to obscurity, something which might not happen in his lifetime, he always would have power of some kind. Although it unnerved and displeased him, he needed to be realistic and put others first. This information, whatever it was, was important enough that Dingleberry didn't want him to have it. At least, that was Harry's interpretation. It was equally likely that Lippershey was crazy and Dingleberry was protecting him, but Harry's (in)famous gut feeling said the information, whatever it was, was legitimate, and that Dingleberry's motivation was primarily fear. Under this assumption, could Harry, in good conscience, refuse? Could he stand idly by while a threat may be lurking in their midst?

No. No, he could not. He realized, with a heavy sigh, that this was never truly in question. He would always have gone, if only because his conscience wouldn't let him do otherwise. He had simply not wanted to. He had wanted to stay in this house, with Draco, and live as close to a peaceful life as he could manage. The very thought was like a siren's song, and Harry groaned out loud as he realized that peace and home were only part of the equation. The draw, the enticement, was Draco. And wasn't that a scary thought?

Harry reluctantly got up. He shoved thoughts of how enticing Draco was away. He needed Draco's opinion, his advice on how to proceed. Harry, as Draco had so helpfully pointed out, was no strategist. Harry was a Point, a front-runner. He sped ahead and achieved the goal, and left the planning and plotting to others. He realized now how near-sighted that was, and how trusting. He would need to start being able to make truly well-thought decisions. Power in the hands of a fool was like playing Russian roulette. Sooner or later, someone would get hurt, and there was no telling who it would be. And although he couldn't imagine saying it even a few months before, he could think of no one better to learn from than his own personal jailbird.

He made his way to Draco's door, but as he raised his fist to knock he felt an unexpected hesitation. He was reluctant to knock, and he couldn't figure out why. He knew he looked like an idiot, standing outside the door, fist raised but not knocking. He just...couldn't bring himself to do it. It wasn't until he felt a familiar twist in his stomach that the truth dawned on him.

 _Surely, I'm not...nervous? What nonsense!_

But his body told the tale, refusing to budge despite having no reason not to. He was about to go back to his room and seriously question his sanity when the door opened. Draco and he stared at each other several moments, neither knowing what to say. Finally Draco broke the string contest, pointedly looking at Harry's raised hand with an inquiring brow raised. Harry quickly lowered his hand to his side, flushing with embarrassment.

"Hi." Harry said, his voice high. He cleared his throat. "I was, um...coming to see you."

Draco visibly regained his equilibrium, leaning against the door frame with a smirk. "Oh, really?"

"Yes." Harry said. He refused to acknowledge Draco's interpretation, or how it made him feel. "I need your advice."

Draco's smirked intensified. "A lot of lube, start small, and take your time."

Harry had thought he knew where this conversation was going, but now he had no idea. "Um...what?"

Draco's seductive pose broke as he seemed surprised by something. "Do you really...? How could you not...?" He did something Harry had never seen cool, calm, composed Draco do before. He facepalmed. "Oh, Merlin. We really will need to take this slow."

Harry flushed. "There is no _this._ This is not a thing."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Sure. What did you actually want to ask about?"

"Lippershey." Harry said. "I've decided that I'm going to go, but I don't want to do it half-cocked. If I'm going to do this, whatever this is, I want to do it right. No more martyring."

Draco said nothing for several moments. His gaze went over Harry, assessing. This time, however, Harry did not feel as though Draco were undressing him with his eyes. Instead, Draco seemed to be looking at him, right through to his soul. He nodded softly, obviously approving of what he saw. He seemed very thoughtful as well.

"I see." Draco said. He stepped back into his own room. Harry followed, shutting the door behind him out of habit. Draco went to sit at his desk, and Harry sat nearby on the bed. If he had sat a little closer, their knees would have been touching. He shifted unconsciously at the thought, but focused as Draco began to speak.

"Well, more than anything you should be prepared for Lippershey to ambush you. As a Ministry ex-employee, he is going to have resources regardless of which department he was from. Obviously, you'll take your wand with you everywhere, but the Antidote to Common Poisons and a Blood Replenishing Potion would not go amiss. Since we don't know which department he was part of, you might also take the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons as well."

Draco stopped and looked at Harry to get his input. Harry's response was to blink.

"Um, I suppose I could pick some up before I go."

"Before _we_ go," Draco corrected. "Which brings me to my next point. Safety in numbers. He clearly expects you to come alone, so that is absolutely the last thing you should do."

Harry nodded. "Makes sense. But what if he insists on talking to only me?"

Draco shrugged. "You have the advantage, use it. Whatever he wants to tell you, it was important enough to reach out to you personally, and to risk being detected by the Ministry. He clearly wants, maybe needs, to tell you whatever it is."

"So I can make him tell both of us by threatening not to listen." Harry surmised.

Draco's eyes gleamed. He was glad that Harry was already showing promise as a strategist. He hastily reminded himself that it was early days yet, plenty of time for Harry's Gryffindor nature to come back to bite him. "Exactly."

Harry grinned at Draco's expression, but became confused when Draco walked over to his dresser and began rooting around in it. He laughed as a familiar pentagon came flying towards his head. Draco smiled in response as he retook his seat.

"Cheers." He said before biting the head off the Chocolate Frog.

Draco grimaced. "You're barbaric."

Harry shrugged. "Kids always bite the heads off animal crackers before eating the body."

"Charming." Draco deadpanned. "The last thing I'll mention, since home field advantage won't be possible, is secrecy. The Minister sticking his nose in this is not good news, even if he is a nitwit. You don't become Minister by being a good little choir boy. Unless, of course, you half-murder a serial killer when you're a baby."

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't comment, much to Draco's disappointment. He continued, "That means that, despite his questionable intelligence and abysmal fashion sense, he has to have some sort of ability to play the game. Whether that's greasing the right hands, stabbing the right people in the back, or otherwise unsavory method remains to be seen. You have to play into the role he assigns you. He showed his hand at the party, though I doubt he realizes it. He wants you to be the political equivalent of a trophy wife. A thoughtless, brainless celebrity whose name and fame he can play on. As such, he won't want to believe that you two are on different sides of anything. He's going to give you an out. Take it. You'll probably have to suffer some embarrassment, but you must do so. Better a little humiliation now than a lot of pain later."

Harry shook his head, amazed at how quickly things had gotten complicated. "Okay. Um, I think I can do that. Maybe."

Draco smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'll be with you. But just in case I can't be, I'll train you on what to do." He reached out hesitantly, pausing before putting his hand on Harry's shoulder. He looked him in the eyes to ensure Harry knew what he was about to say, he meant. "I think you're selling yourself short. You can be brilliant, in your own way. You've just never had to try before, because you had others to fall back on. Ron, who could strategize for you if need be and who encouraged you to let things lie. More than that, though, I think you let Hermione be the brains and never stopped to think that you could use your own instead."

Harry was embarrassed at having been caught out about his lackluster efforts. "I know, I thought of that not long after the final battle. Hindsight and all that."

Draco nodded, then patted his shoulder before taking his hand back. Harry almost reached up, his skin feeling cool now that Draco's warmth had been rescinded. Luckily, he caught himself.

"So," Harry said, standing. "Shall we go to Slug and Jiggers?"

Draco stood as well, smoothing out the folds in his clothing. "I suppose. It's probably about time to leave."

Harry looked at his watch. "Actually, it's only just past ten. So if there's something you need to take care of, I can wait."

Harry looked up and froze. Draco's expression had changed drastically, going from easy acceptance to predatory. He gulped without meaning to, and the feline grin on Draco's face only widened in response.

"There is something that has been nagging at me for a while, now that you mention it." Draco said. He moved toward Harry, who took a step backward. He had forgotten that he had been standing just to the side of the bed, and the backs of his legs immediately hit it. Had he not had such good balance, he would've plopped backwards onto it. Draco, however, did not stop. He stepped forward again, his foot between Harry's. He leaned forward so that their torsos met, then their hips, then their legs. They were pressed together, calf to collarbone. Harry tried to remain standing, but Draco kept leaning forward, bending him backwards. He finally landed back on the bed, but had no time to recover before Draco was there, above him. He was leaning on his elbows, which were on either side of Harry's head. Although he expected Draco to swoop in and steal a kiss, he was surprised as Draco did nothing. Actually, that wasn't strictly true. Draco was looking down at him, his eyes roving his face. It honestly made Harry uncomfortable, and he fought not to squirm. It felt different than the other times Draco had looked at him, really looked at him. This time, as Draco looked at his features as though he meant to memorize them, Harry felt...treasured.

After several moments of this, Harry couldn't take it anymore. Gathering his courage, he leaned up and connected their mouths. His inexperience and the unusual height difference made it a bit awkward at first, but it was worth it to see Draco's eyes go wide. Soon though, they closed, and Harry's did the same as they both sank into the kiss. It started as just the lips, Draco seeming to understand that Harry wanted to take his time. That first initial movement had been rougher than he'd intended, and he'd softened it considerably. There was hardly any movement between them, just lips moving against each other and each man getting acquainted. Although Harry hadn't realized it yet, he was tuning in to Draco's preferences. What he liked, what he responded to, what made him break that cool reserve. Not that Draco was stoic, but Harry was a man of fire and passion, and he was determined to draw out a response.

Draco was the one to part their kiss, after who knew how long. Although he said nothing, he was profoundly affected. Not because Harry had outstanding talent, he had a lot to learn about the art of kissing, and sex in general, but because it had been the sweetest thing he'd ever experienced. Although he did have experience and was not a virgin, those affairs had been about physical satisfaction and paltry high school romance. Nothing substantial. Nothing real, though he would have declared it so at the time. This was different. Harry was different.

He hadn't truly wanted to end the kiss, but he'd wanted to see what Harry would do next. Harry whined at him and tried to kiss him again, and Draco let him, but only for a moment. Then he was pulling away again, and this time Harry growled. He lent up and gently use his teeth to capture Draco's lower lip. Their eyes had opened when Draco had pulled away the first time, so Harry got to see Draco's pupils expand when he did that last. He smiled in response and, intoxicated by Draco's presence and his own hormones, he darted his tongue out and licked.

Draco gasped, the nerve endings in his lip lighting up. He'd always had sensitive lips, and having them toyed with was a major button-pusher for him. When Harry pressed down gently with his teeth, biting softly at Draco's lip, he lost himself in the lustful haze. He had wanted Harry to be the initiator, but at the innocently teasing actions he lost that resolve. He reconnected their mouths, but urged Harry to open his. He did so, and moaned as Draco's tongue plundered his mouth, caressing each dip and curve as if he meant to claim it. Harry was more hesitant, despite having done this before with Ginny. For some reason, this felt different, though he couldn't put his finger on why. Then Draco did a particular trick with his tongue, and Harry's eyes closed on an ecstatic sigh. He lost himself in the way their tongues danced, and ceased to think. He didn't even realize that his hands had moved of their own accord, finding purchase on Draco's back and pulling him closer. Harry was riding a wave of arousal and he could only go along for a ride.

It was many minutes later when Draco lifted his head again, their mouths separating with a filthy pop. His eyes were swallowed in black, with only a thin ring of grey. Harry's were the same, a small ring of jewel-green grass surrounding a black pool. Draco lost himself in Harry's eyes, only remembering why he had stopped when Harry tried to pull him in again, one hand in his hair and one on the small of his back, pressing them together. He wasn't sure if it was a conscious movement or not, but Draco appreciated it either way. He felt himself being drawn back in and had to stand up completely or else be lost in the erotic wonders of Harry Potter once again.

He had turned away from the bed, taking deep breaths and counting to ten in order to regain control. When he thought he had composed himself, he turned around. He groaned at the sight that met him.

Harry hadn't moved at all, except to lift himself onto his elbows so that he could see Draco. He was splayed on the bed, his legs spread just enough and there was a distinctive bulge to show that Harry's body was still very interested. Draco actually salivated at seeing it, but resolutely trained his gaze on Harry's face. It didn't help much. Harry was the picture of dishevelment, his lips swollen and dark pink from use, his hair just a bit more messy than usual, his eyes still dilated. But more than that, it was the look on his face. Harry looked wrecked, in the best way possible.

"Get up." Draco said, his voice low and hoarse from his still-present arousal.

Harry obeyed, reluctantly. He had clearly forgotten everything except him, Draco, and a bed. Draco wasn't surprised, really. The reason most adults treated sex as so blasé was because they had fucked it out of their systems as teenagers. It was old hat. Draco hadn't reached that point, but he was struck with the realization that even if he had grown completely bored with sex and saw it as a been-there-done-that kind of thing, he would still react this way to Harry. It was not the most comfortable of revelations, although it was hardly enough to cow him. He watched as Harry straightened his appearance a bit, though anyone who saw him would know he had had some form of intimacy. Draco grabbed another Chocolate Frog while Harry was distracted and walked over to him. The effect was instantaneous. Harry's eyes fixed on him, from looking at his face to watching his long legs as he approached. Had this been at Hogwarts, Draco would've reveled in the attention and taken what seemed to be on offer. Now, Draco let a shiver course through him but otherwise stayed resolute.

"Go to your room. Clean yourself up. You have..." Draco paused, grabbing Harry's wrist and lifting it so he could see the little clock he wore there. "Thirty minutes before we beard the lion in his den."

Harry blinked confusedly and with slight betrayal at his clock, as if it had Stupefied him. It was quite possibly the cutest thing Draco had ever seen. He gently placed the Chocolate Frog in Harry's hand before gently tugging it downward and releasing it. Harry was still looking at him, and Draco compulsively leaned in and kissed him on the cheek before whispering in his ear,

"Go. While I can still convince myself to let you."

For a moment, one mad, wonderful moment, it seemed like Harry would stay. But he drew back, nodded to Draco that he understood, and slowly left the room. The door closed with a click, and Draco collapsed onto his bed with a heavy sigh. As always, Harry had his insides in knots and his thoughts in a tumble.

"Sweet Merlin, what am I doing?"


End file.
